


Reminiscent

by therasia



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, Eventual Romance, Fix-It, M/M, Vanitas Remnant - Freeform, and can't for the life of him stop visiting to fight him, in which Ventus accidentally comes across the Remnant after all this time in the Badlands, post kh3
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-11
Updated: 2019-05-04
Packaged: 2019-10-26 09:09:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 27,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17743010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/therasia/pseuds/therasia
Summary: That stupid black helmet seemed to stare at him, the white lines flowing down its surface and the Unversed symbol they formed outright mocking him. He didn't ever move a single muscle, waiting for Ventus to get up.Clenching his teeth, he readied his keyblade. "Again."





	1. Wandering

They would _never_ understand.

It was difficult enough for Aqua and Terra to even mention the Badlands, let alone wonder about what could possibly have escaped their eyes the last time they were there. Their minds and hearts still clung to the memories around the horrid place, both recent and old, and when they last expected it, they would reenact them again in their nightmares.

Sometimes, things changed. Terra didn’t put up a fight. Ventus lost total control over his own body, much like Terra did. Aqua died at his hands, Mickey never arriving in time.

Ventus could only witness as the evidence of countless restless nights piled up under their eyes and armor, deep circles growing darker, clothes not as form fitting as they used to be. He would stare at the same telltales his reflection had, taking his time in comparing them to Aqua and Terra’s without really knowing why. They all suffered unimaginable forms of torture on their own. Measuring the extent of the after effects felt horribly wrong.

However, with time came recovery. With time came regular visits to the Destiny Islands, invitations to stop healing in the solitude of a castle that felt too big for the three people inhabiting it. Its long halls were full of light, the stars at night were as beautiful as Ventus remembered, but there was just _nothing_ to do. His hands itched for his keyblade, unconsciously summoning it in his sleep more than once. With Aqua focusing on training Terra, and Terra’s intent on achieving the Mark of Mastery born anew, he would train on his own for hours.

Nothing ever felt so unsatisfying.

Sighing, Ventus looked down at the water below him. The waves gently rocked his legs where they dangled, hanging from the surface of the dock. Even though the sunset was already casting everything in an orange glow, he had grown used to the difference in day and night cycles between the islands and the Land of Departure. It would be hours past nightfall here before the sun even started to set back at home.

“What are you doing here all alone, huh?”

Her voice took him by surprise, making him flail slightly before he regained his balance. As appealing as the water looked, Ventus was not in the mood for a swim. His lips twitched, curling into a sheepish grin as he turned to face Kairi.

Somewhere in the island, someone squealed, distant laughter just barely reaching his ears.

“O-Oh! Hey. I just…” The blond fumbled with his words, trying to come up with a decent explanation, one that wouldn’t hurt her… Maybe one that wasn’t actually a _lie_. Close to giving up, he made a vague gesture with his hand. “It’s quiet here.”

Kairi stayed silent for a few seconds, her blue eyes looking him over, as if searching for any signs of hurt, anything she could possibly try to fix herself. Ventus couldn’t be sure about what conclusion she had reached by the time she spoke again, a small smile on her face.

“It’s nice, isn’t it? I’ve spent a long time here, just looking at the horizon, waiting for anyone to make it back home, and the sight of it never gets old.” She paused, looking at the waves. “Still, doing it alone…”

“I’m alright.” Ventus cut her off, knowing where she was coming from. It wouldn’t do to dwell on the past more than necessary, and as far as he knew, Kairi had already spent more than enough time feeling sad for others. “It’s weird. I don’t know why I still feel like we’re in danger.” He confessed, looking confused. “It’s just…”

“–It didn’t feel like it would actually _end_ someday.” She ventured, nodding.

“Right. I have this prickling in the back of my neck, like a warning telling me to get ready to fight and still, everything couldn’t be any more peaceful.” A sigh escaped his lips, and his eyes shifted to escape her own gaze as he continued. “I don’t know how to deal with it.”

If her silence was any clue to go by, neither did she.

 

* * *

 

Ventus didn’t – _couldn’t_ – stay any longer after that. As comfortable as he was with Kairi, they had only been friends for so long, and opening up to anyone and everyone was Sora’s thing, not his.

_Sora_.

Unconsciously, his hand flew to his chest, right over his heart. With his whereabouts unknown, the blond couldn’t help but wonder if that had been the last price to pay in order to put an end to the war. There had been too many victims to Xehanort’s games, too much hurt for a sacrifice so high, and yet.

And _yet_.

Breathe, Ventus reminded himself, frowning under his helmet. It wasn’t that late, and in his mind a trip on his glider had been the perfect excuse to let some time pass before returning home. His armor clinked as he made a sharp turn, veering off the track to the Land of Departure. In the distance, he could just barely manage to make out the barren silhouette of the Badlands.

They wouldn’t understand.

The weight in his chest, the longing in his heart for something he didn’t even know what it was; that nagging feeling came back full force, quickening his heart beat. Swallowing around the knot in his throat, Ventus directed one last look at his home world, silently hoped Aqua hadn’t noticed his absence just yet, and sped off towards the world that had caused him so much pain.

_I’ll be right back, Aqua. I promise._

As he approached his destination, the feeling only intensified, sending shudders up his spine when he stepped onto the dirt below him. Looking around, nothing had changed. Days had passed, months had come and gone, but this land was unperturbable, not even faced by the change of the seasons. It looked exactly as it always did: empty, deserted. Dry air hit his cheeks once he removed his armor, feeling stupid standing all alone in his battle gear.

It took almost no time to reach the Keyblade Graveyard. Countless Keyblades littered the ground, most still stuck in the dirt, while others were strewn about, as if something had ripped them right out of the ground with an incredible force.

_Someone_ , a voice in his head amended, sounding almost amused by his observation. How could he ever forget the sight of all those Keyblades mid-air, propelling the culprit behind this disarray up and away from his reach? That mask, seeming to stare back at him, hiding what could only have been a mocking smirk and the cruelest eyes…

It was definitely not the best time to wonder about him, in particular. Then again, what had he been expecting? This place was irrevocably related to that person, one bad memory after another. They followed him everywhere he looked; from a deceivingly innocent looking clearing to the more evident traces left by the battle. Aqua, lying still under the menace of the Void Gear. Terra, being led away to his demise with little more than a taunt. _His_ body, falling apart right in front of him…

Suddenly nauseous, Ventus turned around the way he came from, away from the Graveyard, away from any of the spots he could so much as barely recognize. With his knees threatening to buckle under him and his hands trembling just enough to make it impossible to use his Gummiphone, he opted for leaning against a wall instead. A bead of sweat rolled down the side of his face, his breath became erratic, but the hard stone against his forehead helped grounding him.

Here, he hadn’t done anything. There was no tragedy to remember, nothing that could possibly trigger a fight or flight reaction on him. The blond reminded himself that as he struggled to catch his breath, trying to regain what little control of his emotions he had at the moment. Confused and tired, he let his eyes fall closed, palms finding a steady grip on the wall before him.

There was nothing to fear. Xehanort was gone. For _real_ , this time.

By the time his breathing had gone back to normal and the storm within his mind had calmed, ten minutes had passed. Startled by the alarm he had forgotten all about setting on his Gummiphone, he almost headbutted the dusty rocky wall in front of him. The shrill, high pitched tune that reached his ears almost quickened his pulse yet again, seeming way louder than it actually was in the complete silence around him.

He surprised himself laughing in response, calm finally settling in. Look at him, even a simple piece of music got the upper hand on him these days. Blue eyes softened as he looked at the photo of Aqua, Terra and him smiling on the screen. Ever so carefully, he locked it before putting it back in his pocket. The alarm was there for a reason. If he missed dinner _again_ , Aqua would be mad.

_Time to go home._

Turning on his feet, he had just enough time to jump away from the Void Gear about to hit his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> when I finished kh3, I had a lot of feelings. and then I just went "just what happened to Vanitas Remnant? N-nomura?????" and so this idea was born! I hope you like it!


	2. Discovery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe the attention this got! I'm seriously delighted, it made me want to write faster. I hope you enjoy this chapter you guys ♥

The rock pillar he had been leaning on cracked at the point of impact as he narrowly made his escape. As he had only dodged on instinct, it took Ventus a few seconds and a huge leap backwards to actually realize what the threat was.

 _Who_ , to be precise.

The chains around the keyblade in his hands jangled, clicking against the metal as he once again readied his stance. Frowning, Ventus called his own, holding onto it like a lifeline.

“What? After a death that dramatic, you’re still alive?” He yelled, making sure that his words reached his target.

From the other side of their improvised arena, Vanitas simply stood there, barely fazed by his own failure. His chest rose and fell, and darkness started gathering around him in a really macabre version of a shield.

Just what was he up to? Perplexed, wary, and outright confused, Ventus watched as the surface became almost opaque, hiding him from view. Just looking at it made the blond uncomfortable; pure darkness, as a way of defense?

…From _him?_

Suddenly bashful, Ventus lowered his keyblade. “I’m not here to fight! I didn’t even know you were –” _hiding,_ sulking “here.”

The afterimage that shot out of the sphere to attack him was his only reply, and he dodge rolled to the side in order to avoid him. Pitch black, barely any detail whatsoever in his illusions… was Vanitas that weak, or was he just not bothering in making his clones seem real anymore?

He didn’t have time to dwell on it, rolling and rolling as more clones kept coming, trying to strike him down. His ears ringed, and he found himself growing more and more dizzy as the endless stream of afterimages wore him down.

Meanwhile, the real menace behind the attacks never left his barrier. Ventus threw a dirty look in his direction when he almost failed to dodge in time, blocking mid roll a completely black Void Gear with his own weapon.

What a jerk. Wasn’t he ever going to come out and fight him himself?

Almost unreasonably bothered by the fact that Vanitas wouldn’t even face him while trying to destroy him, he sent a Fission Firaga at his shield. The incredible satisfaction Ventus got from seeing it explode and dissolve into a thousand little pieces only lasted a second, which was the time it took Vanitas to start running his way.

He couldn’t understand. Why was he so mad at him? Hadn’t they parted in mostly civil terms? All this reckless assault, this aggressivity… were they just meant to keep fighting each other until one of them died?

Can we even _stay_ dead, Ventus thought, suddenly fighting the urge to roll his eyes at the living proof of evidence trying to currently skewer him with a Blizzaga.

All the while, everything kept being eerily silent. There was not a single taunt, no _gotcha_ , no _nope_. The afterimages always followed the goal to maim, to confuse in order to _hurt_ , not to mock him.

It was like fighting a completely different person.

Sure, Vanitas had changed, he thought, shielding against a Firaga that almost caught him unaware. Gone was the rich red over his chest, his boots, his own keyblade. Perhaps he really _had_ died, or come ridiculously close to it, so much that his body could barely resist the strain and lost some of its essence in the process.

That silver like white that had taken over all color, was it just yet another example of Xehanort’s reach? Was he just under his…

No, no, Xehanort was dead. There was no doubt about it. Eraqus himself had come to lead him away… somewhere else. Regardless of whether Ventus actually believed in that weird change of heart of his, his Master wouldn’t allow Xehanort to actually leave his sight from now on. That much was clear.

So, Vanitas wasn’t dead. He also wasn’t under Xehanort’s thumb, if they all hadn’t been tricked somehow. This was real, if the pain that erupted from his shoulder as Vanitas round kicked him was anything to go by. Retaliating with a Thundaga, Ventus quickly jumped away, watching as he briefly fell to his knees, probably stunned.

What was going on here?

“Why are you so quiet? It’s seriously…” unnatural. Unknown. Creepy. Ventus shook his head, trying his best to put some distance between him and Vanitas. He was just clearly trying to rile him up, get him to make a mistake.

That wouldn’t happen.

Shaking with effort, the figure on the ground slowly started to get on his feet, using his keyblade to propel himself up. His helmet shone in the light, still blocking the view of the face hiding behind it—

His helmet.

That mask was… different. Lines bled down its surface, composing a symbol that shouldn’t make as much sense as it did. That was—

Ventus’ face paled at the sight. He would have recognized it anywhere.

The mark of the Unversed, clear as day.

It couldn’t… it couldn’t be!

“V-Vanitas, this isn’t funny. Come on, say something.” Anything, whatever would be enough to deny what his eyes desperately wanted him to believe. A nervous laugh escaped his lips, unconsciously taking a step back.

“I’m stupid. I’m dumb. You know that, I come to stupid conclusions that are just wrong. Tell me.” He mumbled, wincing at the way his voice cracked as he said it. Vanitas – no, whatever that thing recovering its breath nearby was – didn’t make a single sound.

Unable to face the truth, Ventus did the only thing he could.

He ran.

He sprinted away from the scene, hoping he had bought himself enough time to make his escape. Taking cover behind a pillar, he punched the piece of armor on his shoulder, feeling it expand to take over his whole body.

The Unversed was already coming his way, sending afterimages to teleport towards him faster than he ever would by running. Ventus winced. He _could_ strike him down—

Once his sight turned darker behind his visor, he jumped on his glider, elevating himself several meters. Just as Ventus expected, a fake Void Gear almost grazed his arm in a last attempt to hit him midair, having teleported right above him.

Biting his lip, he increased his speed, surging upwards in an almost vertical angle as he ascended. With his heart in his throat, Ventus risked one last glance at the ground. As he left the Badlands behind, whatever was behind that mask stared back at him.

* * *

What followed was the fastest trip back home he had ever made, pushing his glider to the limit as he sped towards the Land of Departure.

Whatever he had been expecting to find there, it certainly wasn’t that. Across multiple worlds, he had never seen any Unversed like that one. With a deceiving look like that, Ventus had actually thought it had been Vanitas himself, back from the dead.

Who could blame him? He already did it once. For a second, he had been ready to believe that Vanitas had come back just to spite him, to get to mock him and bother him yet another day. Even that Unversed’s desire for battle hadn’t been surprising, when did they _not_ fight?

Ventus was a fool.

It was already nighttime in that world by the time he landed. The stars had come out, and the moon lit his path to the entrance of the castle. By the time he had made it inside, Ventus was only certain of one thing.

Aqua was going to _murder_ him.

His clothes were dirty from rolling around so much, his hair was a complete and utter mess, he was late for dinner, and there was no hiding his ragged breath. He could only hope he didn’t look as frantic as he felt.

Changing his clothes would only take more time, and a quick Curaga only relieved the ache in his muscles. Making his way down the hallway, he eventually reached the door he was looking for. With no more preparation other than a deep sigh, his hand turned the knob, and it opened under his grasp.

From the table, Terra sent an amused smile at him.

“What did I tell you? You know he loves this stuff.” He grinned, patting Aqua on the shoulder.

Rolling her eyes, her expression went from slightly annoyed to worried in a second, rising from her seat to come his way in the next.

“Ven? What happened to you?” Blue eyes bore into his own, examining his appearance with a focus he couldn’t help but inwardly wince at.

Nothing ever escaped Aqua.

His best clueless impression wasn’t good, but it would have to do. Nervous beyond measure and almost as if his mouth gained a life of its own, his lips moved to spew out a _lie_ , of all things.

“I’m fine! Sorry I’m late, my alarm didn’t go off and I lost track of time.” Ventus tried to go for a sheepish smile, even though the corners of his mouth felt tighter than usual.

Side eyeing the contents on the table to avoid her scrutiny, he almost sagged with relief when he saw a plate had been saved for him. His stomach rumbled, agreeing with the sentiment. At that, Aqua’s concerned look seemed to soften, shoulders dropping into a more relaxed position.

With his mouth already watering, Ventus turned to face Aqua, hoping the look on his face looked pleading enough. He _didn’t_ pout, but he could come pretty close to it.

Aqua stared, arms crossed. Ventus stared back, one eyebrow twitching in betrayal.

A sigh signaled his victory, and Terra laughed once he sat right next to him, passing him his dish. His own hunger took him by surprise, and he found himself almost inhaling it rather than eating.

“Just let him eat, he looks like he could eat this table if he wanted.” Terra mused, giving him a look. “Been sparring?”

Swallowing around a piece of lasagna, Ventus tried to make a show of chewing more than he actually needed as he carefully thought about his course of action. He had already lied about the reason he was late. Fine! Fine. He could just mention that Unversed anyway—

The mere thought of it made some unknown feeling twist in his gut. It was… wrong. Sure, they would believe him. They would ask him to show them the place where he found him and then… then what?

Whatever remained of Vanitas, killed by his hand.

No one else knew he even existed; the fact that he was still alive after everything proved that. Had even _Vanitas_ been aware of this?

Not a single soul wanted to go back to the Badlands now. There were too many memories there – mostly bad – and too many other worlds to visit if they so desired. It was easier on the heart to visit their friends rather than literal graveyards, which meant he wouldn’t ever be even a real threat to anyone.

If so, then no one would ever find out if he just… didn’t mention him.

“—Ven? You’re spacing out.” Terra’s hand was moving in front of his face by the time he snapped right out of his thoughts.

Ventus smiled weakly, shaking his head. “Sorry, sorry! Kairi totally crushed me today, I’m beat.” Without even having to ask, he knew she would cover for him. It might require an eventual explanation, but it was still a better option than not having any kind of backup.

From the other side of the table, Aqua leaned her head on her hand. There were still traces of concern in her expression, but her tone was nothing but fond.

“Eat up, then.” If he had been within reach, Ventus was sure she would be ruffling his hair by now. “Try to rest tonight.”

Nodding, Ventus finished his meal to the sound of quiet comments and laughter from his friends, and he made sure to not linger _too_ much. The grateful look Terra sent over Aqua’s shoulder as he left made him grin with mischief, problems forgotten for a little while.

Those two were hopeless.

Later at night, he would roll and shift and correct his position, time and time again. Restless, he turned his back to the window, and tried not to think of whether the Unversed’s eyes were as golden as his creator’s behind the mask.

He didn’t sleep a wink.

* * *

Somewhere unknown, the night was unnaturally dark, covering everything in black. The only sources of light were the stars, distant as they ever were, and their light wasn’t anywhere near intense enough to do anything other than casting a small area in a delicate hue.

A man slept on as their light danced across his features, and he turned in his sleep, frowning and shying away from it. Unconscious, he uttered the quietest of whispers.

“…Should’ve reabsorbed it long ago.”


	3. Decisions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is kind of a transition chapter, but it's necessary in order for the story to go forward. Thank you for all the support so far (your comments just make me want to develop this thing even further, and we reached 100 kudos, like /what/). As always, I hope you enjoy it!

For the next few days, Ventus trained.

His keyblade never stopped summoning the elements, fire, water and wind leaving their devastating mark in the training grounds he favored. Scorch marks would litter the floor, wind only making his flames higher, and ice decorated the ground and walls wherever he lingered, growing in sharp, lethal spikes that he didn’t dare touch from how sharp they looked.

It was tiring, intense…

…And also incredibly _boring_.

The balls of light Aqua taught him how to summon were never durable enough, nor were they useful for anything other than _some_ practice involving moving targets. Terra had joined him once, and it had been fun, but there was no helping the way he always held out on Ventus, afraid of hurting the boy he considered his little brother. Upon realizing it, Terra had sheepishly apologized and requested they continued their practice, cursing his overprotective instincts. Regardless of how much he tried to let go, Terra kept slipping into careless stances, leaving his flank open too many times for it to be his mistake, and his blows sometimes lacked the terrible strength Ventus knew those arms could be capable of showing.

“I guess I woke up in the wrong side of the bed today, huh?” Terra wondered, switching to a double handed grip. Even though his hits should technically be stronger after that, there was only one possible outcome.

It wouldn’t work, and Ventus already knew it, just by looking at his friend’s expression.

Even though he didn’t dare to fuel the hope already so close to dying in his chest, Ventus just laughed, loud and fond.

“You sure you’re not getting old? I can hear those hips squeaking from here!” He taunted, twirling the keyblade in his hands.

Terra gasped, a hand going to his chest in horribly exaggerated hurt. “How _dare_ you. This is personal now.”

Ventus grinned. “Yeah? What are you gonna do, call Aqua? Oh, _Master_ , I’m _so_ in danger—” His words were cut off by a Firaga hitting too close, but the sight of a flustered Terra just made his grin wider.

“You are such a brat!” Terra mumbled, unable to keep himself from smiling.

Over the sound of their laughter, their keyblades met.

 

* * *

 

In the end, Ventus had come to accept that his friend was, in fact, too much of a softie to unleash his full potential against him. Despite the fact that it was somewhat insulting to be seen as a kid after everything that had happened in the past thirteen years, Ventus had resigned to his fate. Training alone wasn’t _that_ bad, if the reigning chaos in the room around him was any sign.

Sighing as a piece of cloth still ablaze fluttered in the air before falling on the ground right in front of him, Ventus summoned water to deal with most of the aftermath of his last training session. The sweat running down his forehead only seemed to increase as he came close to the flames near the door, cringing and coughing as the smoke they produced filled his lungs.

This just couldn’t go on.

Restless and frustrated, Ventus couldn’t just go to the Destiny Islands every time he felt like sparring. Sure, he would meet more than one challenger there, and it would be a great learning experience, but somehow, he didn’t think that was what he craved.

What he craved was just too much of a bad idea to think of.

For all his flaws and naivety, Ventus wasn’t stupid. Fighting against the living image of his other half was hardly a mediocre idea, let alone an actual good one, for a series of reasons.

First of all, how cruel was that? He would literally have fun over beating up a non-sentient creature that so happened to look like Vanitas, and honestly, that was all kinds of wrong. Secondly, just how much damage could he take? Would he vanish the very moment he threw a single attack at him, now that he had already fought him once? Would he regenerate over time?

He could always try to cast a Curaga on him, but…

No, no, no, that was outright _sadistic_. It would mean making a literal punching bag out of a living being – as alive as an Unversed could ever be, he hesitantly added – and the feeling of guilt that settled in his throat like a knot at the mere idea made Ventus incredibly uncomfortable.

Still…

He couldn’t deny the fact that their only fight had been the most exhilarating Ventus had experienced in the past months, ever since everything ended. The fast pace he was forced to react in. The brutal strikes he received if he ever so much as dared to feel overconfident in his position. The familiar yet different attacks, an echo of the old times…

Ventus furrowed his brows, deep in thought. What did his morality say in all of this? It was certainly selfish of him to want to use his recent discovery to his advantage. He should just ask Aqua for special lessons instead, maybe even Riku, and so get to train under a different Keyblade Master.

That would be good for everyone involved. Ventus would get to see a different combat style and possibly learn from it, Aqua would have more time to focus on Terra and nothing to worry about anymore, and he—

He would remain bored, unmotivated, and bitter over the lack of time in his friends’ lives lately.

Looking at the clear skies through the window in his room, Ventus bit his lip.

_Don’t do it. Don’t do it. Don’t—_

He was out of his room and the world before he could realize it. 

 

* * *

 

A soft breeze ruffled his hair as his mask and armor vanished back into his shoulder, and Ventus squinted as some dirt got in his eyes in the process. Blinking it away, he tried to scan what little of the Badlands he could see from behind a pillar, in search of a certain Unversed.

“Now then, where are you?” He mumbled under his breath, looking around.

This was the place they had last fought in, he was sure of it. Did that mean he moved around, or was the landscape just too similar for him to find the correct location?

Whether it was the right place or not, Ventus was less and less sure about as the minutes passed, walking around in wide circles in an attempt to find out. He could have sworn this was where he decided to summon his glider, but…

Guess he was wrong, after all.

And yet see, that just _had_ to be the pillar he had been leaning against when his alarm went off—

His _alarm_.

In the complete silence that reigned in this place, that must have been like a giant beam of light in the middle of the night, unintentionally announcing his whereabouts to whoever was listening.

Could it be?

Shrugging and figuring trying it out would solve his doubts faster, Ventus quickly set up an alarm on his Gummiphone that would go off in the next minute, turning the volume all the way up. The seconds seemed to go slower than usual as he held the device in his hands, waiting anxiously for, at least, some closure in regard to his little theory.

Just when Ventus had started to feel like the thing was mocking him by not changing the hour shown in the screen now that he was intently looking at it, the familiar cheery tune he had been expecting pierced the air. Flinching at the loudness of it, Ventus covered one of his ears with his free hand, eyes darting from side to side in search for some sort of sign that proved he wasn’t being a total idiot.

As the song was short, it didn’t take long before it reached its end, looping back just a couple of seconds after. By then, Ventus was already feeling like one, pursing his lips at the fact that his idea had been a failure. His fingers were brushing the dismiss button when he caught something moving from the corner of his eye.

Ah, _there_ he was.

A shadow moved at fast speed towards him, almost completely flat against the ground in a way that was too familiar not to be recognized. At the sight of the dark puddle coming his way, Ventus’ lips twitched upwards, putting his Gummiphone away and calling his keyblade.

Wayward Wind came to his hand faster than usual, as if sensing the increasing eagerness and excitement of its wielder. Ventus found that was fine, raising it just in time to block a powerful thrust once the Remnant emerged from the ground. With a strong blow of his own, Ventus forced him back, blue eyes twinkling in appreciation.

It felt good, having an opponent that wouldn’t hold back.

With some currently diminishing distance now between them, Ventus quickly ran over a list in his head.

One: treat him with the respect an Unversed like him deserved. It would be over in a blink if he so much as let his guard down for a second. Two: Aqua couldn’t catch him arriving late for dinner ever again, no matter how deep into the battle he was. And three…

Do _not_ end his existence.

A fairly reasonable set of rules, all for the sake of his conscience, nagging him as it was. No matter what he did, he could not deny this was a selfish act, driven by his newly found thirst for battle. If this was what it took to keep his friends from worrying over him, then…

Ventus would keep his excursions a secret for as long as they lasted.

As the Void Gear was pointed at him, he sunk into a focused state, eyeing his opponent with a wariness that hadn’t been there – nor _needed_ – while fighting against Terra.

“Bring it on,” he exclaimed, dipping into a defensive position.

If he hadn’t known better, Ventus would have sworn the doppelganger tilted his head at that, as if silently taking up the challenge. Whatever thought that idea might have spawned died with the clash of their keyblades.

 

* * *

 

“Do you think Ven is okay?”

A girl with black hair looked back from where she was sitting, blue eyes setting on the redhead’s. “Why do you ask? Is something wrong?”

Kairi shook her head, joining Xion on the paopu tree she was sitting on. “I don’t know. He’s been acting weird ever since… you know.” She frowned. “I think he just can’t let go of everything that has happened.”

Xion hummed, lips set into a hard line. “That’s understandable. Did you know he’s been having trouble sleeping?” Kairi’s eyebrows shot up, expression turning even more filled with worry.

“Really?”

She nodded, an apology written across her features. “I overheard Aqua and Terra talking about it the last time they were here. I don’t think Ven even knows _they_ know. He’ll sleep well a couple of hours, then spend the rest of the night rolling around in an attempt to go back to sleep. He’s also oddly lethargic at times, like his sleepless nights suddenly decide to take a toll on him.”

“He slept for thirteen years,” Kairi murmured, contemplating all the possible consequences of it. “Maybe his body is taking some time to readjust to a normal schedule.”

“That would make sense.” Xion agreed, her feet dangling over the sand. “That’s not what you’re worried about, though.”

Kairi clicked her tongue. “He just looks so… on edge. Like he’ll smile one second and bite all his nails off the next out of pure nervousness. This,” she gestured towards the sea in front of them, “is not enough to calm him down. He doesn’t want peace, or rest, his body has had more than enough of it.”

Surprisingly, Xion’s lips turned into a small smile, turning to look at a somewhat stunned Kairi.

“He’s been sleeping almost half of his life. Maybe staying still for even a second makes him think he’s wasting his time. Whatever the case, I’m sure he’s coping with it, somehow.” Her expression softened, turning a little unsure. “If he needs help, he’ll tell us. Or Aqua, or Terra.”

Looking at the perfectly clear sky over their heads, Xion believed with all her newfound heart that this time, without a single shadow in sight, everything would be alright.

 

* * *

 

The profound ache in his muscles that came with a good workout followed Ventus to bed, sighing in content as his back hit the mattress. The unpredictability of a different move set, the savage strength that met his own keyblade until his arms felt like they were about to fall off, no mercy to be found—

Ventus blinked, raising a hand to his face.

He had been smiling as he remembered the fight, all too lost in his own thoughts about how brilliant an opponent an _Unversed_ had been. One whose creator would probably put even more drive into trying to kill him if he were to come back from the dead and see what he was doing.

Shaking his head, he turned on his side, watching the starry night from his window. Aqua had said each star was a whole different world, and after everything, he believed her. Countless worlds, countless possibilities, stretching far beyond the realms they visited. Were there reflections of their worlds out there, places where a single decision had changed everything?

Vanitas, deciding to outgrow his darkness. Vanitas, never joining the Organization in the first place.

Vanitas, not being mad at what he was doing.

The fight he had always demanded, willfully given to a carbon _copy_ of him.

Ventus winced, imagining the look of pure outrage that would certainly take over his face, those molten gold eyes accusingly unforgiving. He had always had Vanitas’ full attention, and for him to direct it so carelessly to the next best thing—

For the first time that day, Ventus wondered if he was in trouble.

Going out like a light mere minutes after and getting a full night’s sleep for the first time in a while, the answer was nothing but debatable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If everything goes according to plan as I write it, the next chapter will be... intense. So, look forward to that! Also, I figured I'd leave some sort of communication way here, so you can find me on twitter @ vanvenroku. I'm honestly vanven starved, so feel free to come say hi if you want to! Thank you for reading ♥


	4. Developments

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was originally going to be way longer, but with midterms and deadlines kicking my ass I decided to split it into two chapters instead of making you guys wait for much longer. As a result, The Scene I meant on the last A/N isn't here, but will be in the next one 100%.
> 
> Anyway, enjoy!!

The stars never went out, he realized.

This world was stuck in an eternal night, shred in darkness for as long as it had left before it was inevitably swallowed by it. Such fate was impossible to avoid— or so he would think, before the stars seemed to shine brighter, or a meteor shower filled the sky with glittery streaks of light. True darkness shied away from his figure, and his eyes never seemed to fully lose their sight, either.

He would sit on the grass under his feet, feeling on his bangs the soft summer breeze that swept around the field, and stare at the firmament for hours on end, with nothing else to do. So this was his destiny, then. To be cast away to this location until whatever remained of his heart disappeared.

It wasn’t that bad, he mused, unthinkingly ripping off the weeds under his fingertips. It wasn’t.

It _shouldn’t_ be.

With no one around to question his motives, nor mold them into their own, he was stuck here alone, falling and dancing around an endless loop of wondering and thinking about what could have been. Or rather, what should have been, fading into the nothingness he fed from, with no way of coming back.

Like this, it was impossible.

What should have been a creepy and inhospitable atmosphere only radiated light, the stars glinting more than normal as if to make up for the fake eerie landscape around him. Behind him, the castle he had once visited stood tall and proud, void of the sorrow and anguish he had helped extend back in the day. Surprisingly, its doors were wide open, as if inviting him in, but a few corridors seemed to loop back to the start and some doors wouldn’t budge, no matter how hard he tried to kick them open.

Other rooms were inexplicably empty, as if _he_ didn’t care much about what they held inside.

It was so incredibly _Ventus_ that he felt like throwing up.

Vanitas couldn’t call the Unversed here. Despite the piled up rage, boredom and usual discomfort in his own skin, his feelings weren’t enough to summon any. It felt like being underwater, submerged so deep that he couldn’t feel the full extent of what lied beyond the surface. Beyond his reach, his emotions kept increasing their intensity, and with no other thing to do than bottling them up, his whole body seemed to shudder at random times in an effort to keep himself together.

As his body suddenly jerked in place, Vanitas leaned his head into his shoulder, hissing when the sharp glass cut against his cheek.

Wearing just half of his helmet was outright uncomfortable. The parts where it had cracked still glinted in the light, the sharp edges constantly and painfully reminding him of just how close they were to his skin. The darkness he usually formed it with wouldn’t listen to his call, and with no safe way of removing it, it stayed where it was, keeping him from hiding the other half of his face.

When he didn’t think the situation could get any more annoying, he was proved wrong.

After multiple attempts to summon his keyblade, he had managed to achieve different grades of success. Sometimes, his Void Gear came to his hand in a heartbeat, filled with an energy that Vanitas would almost label as anticipation. Other times, summoning a simple Flood seemed more likely to happen than filling the gap in his outstretched hand. It was at those times that he wondered if that was it for him. How much time left did he have in this limbo? Would it take a whole other decade for his fractured heart to heal, or would he vanish forever?

With no negativity to feed from, his heart wouldn’t start mending itself.

Ventus’ consciousness lied beyond the reach of his fingertips, and with no way of dragging him down to his own heart, metaphorically banging on the walls of his heart was useless. Having joined should have filled him with a peace he didn’t feel, as their sloppy union only filled him with dread for the uncertainty of his future. He didn’t dare go back to sleep, fearing never waking up again.

As meaningless as time was in this place, Vanitas didn’t know how much time had passed before he managed to remain fully alert of his surroundings. All he knew was that the moonlight would sometimes catch on the water, beckoning him to come closer to it.

From there he could witness glimpses of what was undoubtedly happening outside this all too peaceful prison. Aqua, laughing at whatever stupid joke Ventus had spit out. Terra, looking right at him with such a fond expression that Vanitas felt uncomfortable, even though he knew the look wasn’t directed at him. A room on fire, debris littering the ground and ice covering the ceiling in such a chaotic, strange picture that Vanitas found himself frowning at it.

Was there a different menace in play? Xehanort should have died. If he _hadn’t_ — if for some unfathomable reason he was still out there, with him _trapped_ in here—

“Again, Ventus?” Aqua’s voice came from somewhere to his right. She sighed, sounding resigned. “Fix it before going to bed, alright?”

“Sorry, sorry! I’ll take care of it, I promise.” Embarrassed laughter reached his ears, and Vanitas’ eyebrows shot up high into his hairline.

As quickly as the image came it disappeared, leaving nothing but questions in its wake.

Just what was Ventus _doing?_

 

* * *

 

 

She hit the ground with such force that Ventus winced, having begun to run towards her before his keyblade completely dematerialized.

_Damn it._

“Are you okay?” His eyes scanned her arms and legs in seek of injury, but apart from a few scratches and bruises, there was nothing to be found.

Xion opened her eyes, slowly rising into a sitting position. Even though her furrowed brow betrayed she was clearly in pain, her tiny, amused smile managed to put him at ease. “Been working out, Ven? A bit harder and I’d have ended up in the secret place.”

Flushing in embarrassment, Ventus actually sputtered, averting his blue eyes. “I’ve been training, b-but I didn’t mean to do that.” Carefully watching her from the corner of his eye, his expression went from guilty to concerned. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

Waving her hand as if to dismiss his worry, Xion jumped to her feet, throwing a Cura over her head for good measure. Even though it did little to make him feel better about his mistake, Ventus did feel better upon seeing the crease in her brow soften, showing her relief.

Still surprised by the strength behind his own attack, he looked down at his hands, picturing his keyblade resting on them in his mind.

Was he getting stronger because of _him?_

Could he even pretend not to have improved this much in under a month?

His progress could be suspicious in the eyes of others, he realized. Sure, he hadn’t seen Xion in weeks, too caught up in his own bizarre routine, but if even she could write off his behavior in battle as odd, it certainly wouldn’t escape others who saw him more often. Ventus sighed, idly scratching the back of his neck.

“I feel like hurting you in any lasting way will lead me to a very slow, painful death.”

To her credit, Xion actually laughed at that, bending at the waist to pick up her keyblade from the sand and vanish it.

“Roxas wouldn’t—”

Ventus arched an eyebrow, daring her to finish that sentence.

She quickly changed tactics. “Okay, okay, he totally would. Axel, on the other hand…” She cringed, shaking her head in a so so gesture. “Forget it. You’re right. I hope you’re ready to die then. You might be stronger, but I don’t think you can compete with Roxas’ speed.”

The idea of being chased and hunted down by someone who looked exactly like him was too weird for Ventus to handle, and he found himself laughing at the mental image it provoked.

“I’m not above begging for mercy, you know. I’m not entirely sure how I’d manage to keep my eyes on two keyblades at the same time.” He admitted, cogs turning in his head.

It looked difficult to say the least, and with some muscles he didn’t know he had still protesting after taking a good beating the day before, he couldn’t say he was up for it. Xion hummed in agreement, her smile turning sly. She leaned forward and cupped her mouth with one of her hands, as if wanting to share a secret.

“It gets easier with time. All you have to do is—”

“I go get us ice cream, and this is what I get as a thank you? Spilling all my secrets behind my back? That’s rude.” A voice not unlike his own came from behind them, and Ventus’ heart dropped to his stomach. By his side, Xion seemed to have trouble stifling her laughter, snorting in response as they both turned to face the newcomer.

Standing with his back to a dark corridor, Roxas carried in his arms more ice cream than Ventus expected, plastic wrappings crinkling as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. A quick count of the ones he could see made him realize he probably wanted to avoid going back to Twilight Town any time soon, as there were just too many even if he did indeed want to share with everyone in the island.

“I didn’t get to say anything, to be honest.” Reaching out with one of her hands, Roxas half heartedly rolled his eyes at her before shoving a wrapped up popsicle into it. Turning to Ventus, he sent a questioning look his way, holding another out to him.

With a smile on his lips, Ventus shook his head. “I’m fine, thank you.” His eyes darted to the gate behind Roxas, and the other followed his gaze, understanding dawning on him.

“Oh, right, I almost forgot.”

With a flick of his fingers the corridor started to shrink, closing in under a second. Watching it disappear from existence, Ventus couldn’t help being confused by the display of power. They didn’t have a Gummi ship, nor did they have an armor to travel with, but he had never stopped to think about the implications behind that.

Wasn’t Roxas one of the guardians of light?

He didn’t seem to linger either, clearly used to summoning a portal whenever he felt like it. Ventus’ mind was still fuzzy with the details of just how Roxas had come to exist and his involvement in the process. Was it just a power gained long ago, the unmistakable imprint of working on the Organization? Or was it a skill that he had made his own, not caring about its origins?

The fact that something inherently born from evil was being used for something as harmless as a means of getting ice cream made Ventus want to laugh.

A beep coming from his Gummiphone interrupted his thoughts. It was clearly time for him to get going, before he made a fool of himself. Looking at them both with an apology in his eyes, he proceeded to say his goodbyes.

“I should go. I didn’t plan to be away for so long.” To Xion, he grinned. “See you soon? I wouldn’t mind a rematch.”

Xion nodded, pointing at him with the popsicle in her hands. “You won’t beat me next time. Safe travels!” Roxas seemed to have some trouble balancing his cargo, but eventually he managed to free one of his arms enough to wave at him.

Not long after the other keyblade wielder speeding off disappeared from their sight, Roxas spoke, voice as intrigued as it was wary.

“…Do you think he knows what’s he’s doing?”

Pulling down the fabric covering her collarbone slightly, Xion inspected the bruise already forming near her shoulder, carefully inspecting the weird brand left by the impact of Wayward Wind. Hot to the touch, she was not surprised to find the familiar pulse of something dark in it, a feeling that threatened to make her remember her days in the Organization.

It wasn’t so long ago that she had wielded the same power.

“He doesn’t. He sees darkness as a threat.”

Given his past experiences, his black and white mentality wasn’t surprising. Xion could understand him in that aspect, as she no longer wanted to have to recur to the power she once had beneath her fingertips.

Gone was the puppet dancing in the shadows. Living in the light was gentler on her heart.

Sighing, she covered her skin, looking back at Roxas.

“If he doesn’t know he’s started to use darkness, and he doesn’t want anything to do with it so he would never use it willingly,” the blond remained silent, probably wondering about the truth as much as she did, “just what is corrupting him?”

Roxas frowned, looking back at the place where he had opened a dark corridor only minutes ago. “I don’t know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ven: unknowingly uses a lil darkness  
> roxas, xion, and anyone who witnesses it really: that pikachu face meme
> 
> twitter: @vanvenroku


	5. Descent

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not gonna beat around the bush. I hope you like it!

The shadows kept closing in, he realized.

What minutes, hours – who kept track of time here anyway? – ago had been an immense area dimly lit by moonlight, stretching far beyond the horizon, was now nothing more than a clearing. Darkness crept in slowly but surely, and even a being made of it like himself couldn’t even fathom what lied past it anymore. Far above, some stars twinkled and died down, never to shine after that.

Stuck in the middle of it, Vanitas thrived.

His gloves skimmed across the surface of the darkness before him, a shudder running down his spine as he felt the negativity seep through the fabric. Made of the same material as the barrier, darkness met darkness in a cold embrace, climbing up his arm and down his shoulders, chilling him to the core as it spread thick and unstoppable.

It was cold, and harsh, and intrusive, but it was familiar, and Vanitas’ shoulders fell into a more relaxed stance.

This, he was used to. Not the light, not the intense positive emotions tugging at the seams of his conscience, or whatever leftover feelings he could experience through Ventus’ scarce windows to the world.

This, he could work with.

He breathed through the ever increasing feeling of claustrophobia and leaned his head against the solid wall of darkness in front of him, letting the panic take over him. In a world without pain, other negative emotions were needed in order to create Unversed. Golden eyes fell closed, knuckles going white under his gloves. The fear in his mind only intensified as his sense of sight disappeared, leaving him tasting bile in his mouth as nausea struck. Yet, no matter how hard he tried to push himself into giving in to the emotion, he couldn’t push the feeling out, couldn’t give it form.

Vanitas didn’t have to open his eyes to know there was no Flood hiding behind his legs, no Hareraiser insistently batting its ears against the walls of this prison.

_“Fuck.”_

 

* * *

 

 

Ventus was a mess.

Sure, he had grown too confident. His almost daily secret travels had proved to be the challenge his body was asking for at the moment, and the results were far from in hiding. His arms were less scrawny than before, his skin just the slightest bit tanner from the countless fights he had gone through under the sun of the Badlands and his time in the islands. The Remnant’s behavior had turned almost predictable to his trained eyes, capable of seeing through the shadows that so often hid the Unversed.

Something that Ventus hadn’t had the opportunity to learn was that with confidence came mistakes.

He hadn’t seen the ruse for what it was, paying attention to the wrong afterimage and failing to acquiesce the one plunging down on him from above before it was too late. A fire hit his shoulder, burning his shirt to a crisp and making his skin a worrying shade of red.

Biting down a cry, Ventus tried going for a Cura, trying to reduce the damage to his body and awareness, but with his magic depleted, the spell barely swept a cold breeze over his skin, doing very little to soothe the pain.

Shifting his grip on his keyblade, Ventus flinched. “Damn it.”

The burn in his shoulder turned moving his arm into a painful, risky feat, but blocking any of the attacks coming his way was still preferable to being hit by any of the shadow clones hunting him down. His knees threatened to give out under the relentless strikes of his multiple opponents, and his bangs stuck uncomfortably to his forehead as he struggled to catch his breath, his blond hair sometimes blocking his vision.

He was too tired to keep fighting, and yet there was no opening to make his escape in sight.

If anything, the Unversed seemed to feed on his fatigue, his attacks more powerful than Ventus remembered seeing, as if he was mocking how helpless he felt at the moment. Whenever the moment to hit his armor and speed away seemed right, he got in his personal space, pushing and hitting and zoning him out with different techniques until Ventus drove himself into a corner.

Belatedly, he realized their usual clearing was nowhere in sight; behind him, a high wall blocked his way, its ascent sure to be fatal against this particular foe. The very moment he dared try to run up its surface, that monochrome Void Gear would strike him and send him tumbling down to the ground. Already in a considerable amount of pain, it didn’t seem like a good idea.

Back to square one.

All he had to do was buy himself time. If his knees endured the assault, if his shoulder remained untouched from then on—

Placing his keyblade on his left hand, he shifted to a double handed grip with some reluctance, only to deeply regret it the moment his keyblade collided against the other. The force behind the thrust ran up his shoulder, unable to control the shift of weight as he had never used a weapon with his left hand.

Between the instability of his hold and the pain, panic filled blue eyes followed his keyblade as it went flying. He tried calling it back into his hand, but inexorable and unsympathetic, the Remnant closed in on him, Void Gear rising up—

Keyblades didn’t react well to desperation, he mused, just before the back of his head hit the wall behind him.

 

* * *

 

 

The first thing he felt was the suffocating atmosphere, pressing down on his chest like an anvil.

The air was thick here, he realized, tainted somehow, like a closet that had remained closed for far too long. His fingers wouldn’t obey him, not even folding as he tried to use his hands to rise to his feet. Even unluckier were his attempts to open his eyes. Heavy eyelids kept them closed, as if his body didn’t want anything other than rejecting his reality until every danger in his proximity disappeared.

Danger.

The back of his neck prickled with it, alarms going haywire in his head as he tried to regain control of his body. As if he were unconscious or traveling the thin line between consciousness and sleep, it ignored all his attempts to do so much as twitch.

Even his expression wouldn’t show his frustration, no matter how hard he wanted to express his displeasure.

“Back to playing sleeping beauty? You know, I thought you’d be tired of sleeping all the time by now.”

That voice. The sarcastic drawl that reached his ears, the jib to his current state—

“That’s fine. I’ve been trying to bring you down here for some time now, but all you do is train. Train, train, train. So exhausted you can’t even dream. If I didn’t peg you for a complete _idiot_ , I’d think you actually came up with it as a way to avoid me.”

If he could open his eyes, Ventus was sure he would watch the owner of the voice shrug.

“It works for me. I don’t need the x-blade anymore, so just taking your body will suffice.” Footsteps came closer, coming to a stop right next to his head. Torn pieces of fabric brushed his cheek as the figure crouched beside him.

Ventus’ fingers twitched, his nails digging into the soil underneath. If the figure saw it, he didn’t acknowledge it.

“I can already see it. Me, wearing your body around, luring your precious Aqua and Terra away from each other. You, stuck down here like I’ve been all this _time_.” He breathed, voice cracking ever so slightly at the end.

As his arm screamed in protest, he tried to call his keyblade, limbs still heavy from his slumber. Whatever shimmer of light that tried to form around his fingers was quickly engulfed by the darkness around them. Unconsciously, Ventus shivered, and his eyes cracked open.

Vanitas looked like he had never left, the helmet he so reverently wore all the time cracked down one half of his face. Unable to remove it or repair it, the places where it constantly dug down on his skin were scratched red, small marks covering the bridge of his nose and the side of his jaw. Shaking under his scrutiny, those yellow eyes seemed to shine ablaze with barely contained anger.

Gone was the acceptance, the peace he seemed to feel when he met his end in the Graveyard. This was the face of a man driven to his wits’ end, one that had tried too many times to climb his way to the surface of his conscience. Never mind Sora; as comfortable and radiant as his heart had turned out to be, Ventus’ was nothing short of a prison for the inmate scratching at its walls.

“Awake already?” Vanitas’ frown contorted into an ugly sneer, pushing his boot into his side with as much care as someone would kick a ball. Gasping, Ventus levelled a defiant gaze at him, trying to will his muscles into moving.

The pressure on him didn’t let up, pushing down on his lungs with such force that he thought he would pass out. Was it even possible to drop even deeper than the plane his heart was at? Whatever that place was, if it existed, didn’t seem to be good news.

He had grown tired of deep slumbers.

Voice no more than a whisper, his lips moved around the word he had meant to utter ever since regaining his conscience.

“Vanitas…”

 It was like everything had grown to a halt, the hold on his body relenting enough for his lungs to take a deep breath. The darkness around them fluttered before shrinking in itself, further away from their position. Not even a second later it bounced back into place, repeating the process the next, as if it didn’t know what to make of this development.

Exhausted beyond words, Ventus struggled to keep his eyes open, unmarred skies hazily peering up at molten gold.

Above them, a star’s light twinkled and died, and Vanitas looked in its direction in annoyance, clicking his tongue.

“Good old Venty-Wenty, sticking his nose where it doesn’t belong. You just had to find that… that thing.” Gloved fists tightened, expression turning outright ballistic. “You were always great at going against other people’s plans, weren’t you. Hell, even Xehanort’s. Old man had to split you into two before you even _thought_ of giving him what he wanted.”

Vanitas got up, and the dark around them shifted closer. His breathing was almost cut short as the pressure on his chest returned, keeping him still against the ground. He couldn’t move, he could barely _breathe_ —

“Better get a taste of your own medicine, Ventus. Sometimes, things don’t work out like we want them to. I’m pretty sure you didn’t wake up this morning longing to choke the life out your friends, but hey, what’s a little change of schedule in the grand scheme of things?”

Turning towards the shadows, Vanitas started to walk in their direction, fingers reaching out for them as if beckoning them closer. The starred sky seemed to dim its light to a minimum, doing very little to help Ventus tell Vanitas’ silhouette apart in the darkness, and from there it just got darker.

Fear gripping his heart in an iron fist, Ventus did the only thing he could.

He drew power from it.

His pulse skyrocketed, his knees felt like butter, his arms weren’t far from falling off at this point, and yet the maddening need to keep his friends alive kicked his feet into motion. Darkness pooled by his feet, licking across his calves and climbing up his chest to stop at his burned shoulder. Incapable of riling it in, a pained moan tore past his lips as it fixed itself on his skin, crudely patching him up.

With his back turned to him, Vanitas stopped in his tracks.

If Ventus thought Vanitas couldn’t grow any angrier, he had clearly been mistaken. His lips quivered, his fingers dug into his fists so hard the fabric could hardly keep him from bleeding out, and the muscles in his neck turned tight with tension. The only eye Ventus could see stared at him in dumbfounded ire, and if looks could kill there probably wouldn’t be any body remaining for Vanitas to take over with.

“You—” Vanitas began, seemingly unable to push any other words out in his current state. His jaw closed with an audible click.

Even as his keyblade materialized, Ventus could only try to breathe through his nose, his survivals instincts and the volatile darkness keeping him going screaming at him to either fly or fight.

This was his heart, right?

“That’s… this is the darkness that you choose? This pathetic, disgusting—” Vanitas’ seemed ready to gag, eyes darting frantically from each part of his body covered by the dark liquid to the next. Wild gold bore into his own, asking for answers he didn’t have. Meanwhile, stuck in his own panicked state, Ventus tried to come up with an outlet.

If it was his heart, and it followed his rules—

He only had to wish for it, and he would be back.

Vanitas looked paler by the second, his rage driving him near hyperventilation. Perhaps feeling a shift in the air, his eyes widened as he reached for what was left of Ventus’ shirt, expression turning desperate.

“Don’t you fucking _dare_ —"

By the time he had finished his sentence, there was no one there.

He was alone again, just like he always was.

Trying to swallow around the knot in his throat, he ran his hands down his face, his left catching on the sharp edges of his helmet’s remains. His body shivered uncontrollably, filled to the brim with all the negative emotions he couldn’t let out into the world like he used to. If he couldn’t exile them from his body—

If he couldn’t turn into a numb mess, he would hide.

Carefully, when his hands had nearly stopped shaking, he tried to direct his inward negativity to his arms, gathering at his fingertips. His visor had so many cracks that the first time he swiped his fingers across they barely filled, but although the pure darkness coming from his limbs was nothing more than a trickle, it slowly but surely filled the gaps.

The part completely missing proved to be more difficult. The thick negativity swirling around him didn’t seem to listen too much to his commands, leaving imperfections at its wake. Sometimes the former smooth surface would turn uneven, dipping inwards towards his face or turning impossible to see through.

Vanitas didn’t know how long he spent fixing his helmet, trying not to think of anything that might push his overwhelming emotions over the brink. By the time he had achieved a passable result, his breathing had slowed to a normal rhythm, and the darkness around him had receded, leaving way to the stars he had come to loathe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me, sweating nervously: well that Happened
> 
>  
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/vanvenroku)


	6. Savior

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a bit short, I apologize. I kind of wanted to write more, but I found myself a bit blocked while thinking about how this would go. I'm sorting out the rest of this fic's plot after I publish this, so hopefully I'll feel better about what I'm writing once I do that. Anyway, thank you for the support so far, it really keeps me writing!

His head hurt.

Unsurprisingly sore and probably concussed, the nape of his neck was damp with what he could only assume was both sweat and blood, tinging his already muddy hair crimson. Propped up against the wall of his point of impact, Ventus cracked open his eyes.

Lights flickered left and right across his vision, lightning fast strikes holding pretty well against the Remnant. The change in foe had hardly seemed to faze him, sending afterimages in every direction in an attempt to compete against his opponent.

He didn’t seem to be that successful.

Trying to track down the location of his assumed savior was nearly impossible. His neck protested whenever Ventus tried to keep up with his movement, and his eyes quite clearly wanted to surrender to his tiredness, but Xion hadn’t lied.

Reading Roxas’ movements turned easier with time.

They were a strange sight, he mused. Roxas, humming under his breath when a clone almost cut him down; the Remnant, fighting like he couldn’t tell Ventus and his very own lookalike apart. Even though it was stupid, Ventus found himself wondering if the boy dipping low to avoid an explosion was him, if his soul had somehow managed to escape his body and he was just witnessing what fight lingered in it from above.

Pebbles unforgivingly dug into his kneecaps as Ventus slowly managed to crawl to his feet, stumbling and hitting his bad shoulder on the boulder next to him. The movement sent red alarms blaring in his head in warning, but the pain never came.

Carefully packing that thought away for him to examine along with the multiple issues he seemed to be facing at the moment, Ventus got up.

He would deal with them _later_.

Seeing as neither of them had noticed he had regained consciousness, Ventus called his keyblade, eyes warily looking out for any stray afterimage that might want to try and hit him. Ventus half walked, half dragged his feet across the dusty ground beneath him, trying not to trip in his hazy state.

The black spots swimming around the edges of his vision couldn’t keep him from watching the moment realization struck on both fighters.

Roxas jumped to his side in a heartbeat, eyes never leaving his rival as he shifted his hold on his keyblades to offer a more defensive stance. Oblivion shone deadly under the sun of the Badlands, as if promising some new additions to the already overcrowded graveyard not far from their position.

“Are you okay? Can you walk?” Despite his confident exterior, Roxas’ voice sounded strained, his breath ragged. His chest rose and fell quickly, and his slight frown spoke volumes of his exertion.

Just how _long_ had he been unconscious?

How had Roxas managed to find him? Had he followed him here, as if knowing something would unavoidably happen? What would have become of him, if no one had ever showed up to aid him?

Mouth dry, Ventus nodded, albeit uncertain. Blue eyes snapped back to his for a few seconds, and he found himself trying to shake off the weird feeling it produced. What his eyes were showing him— it could perfectly be _him_ , trying to chase off whatever menace threatened Aqua or Terra. Heartless, Nobodies, Unversed—

The source of them all.

His shoulder twinged, as if responding to his thoughts, and Ventus hissed out in pain. The black substance shielding his wounds started dripping down his arm, thick and cold and so very wrong. Bile rose up to his throat as negative emotions tried to make their way into his bloodstream, but the wounds still closed, leaving unmarred skin behind.

 _You could control this,_ a familiar voice whispered in the back of his head. _You could do this and so much more, if you weren’t so obtuse._

It scared Ventus to realize that he wasn’t quite sure Vanitas was the one talking.

Wayward wind sank into the ground effortlessly, using it as a sort of cane to right his position. Sweat beaded in the back of his neck, arms shivering visibly with effort, but a Curaga thrown over his head kept his stance stable… for now. Roxas sent a glance on his direction that told him he wasn’t that convinced.

“We need to leave. Now.” He mumbled, knuckles white around Oathkeeper. “God, does he ever get tired?”

He really didn’t. No matter how many times he was knocked down, beaten or avoided, the carbon copy just didn’t seem to lose the will to fight, driven by a will so powerful it definitely wasn’t human.

Idly, Ventus wondered what _that_ made him.

Ventus laughed, a dry, startled thing. “Of course not. Even if that was…” Even if that was _Vanitas_ , his attacks would still be unrelenting, possibly harsher— “he wouldn’t ever stop until he killed me.” It was so easy to picture Vanitas clutching and scratching at the walls of his heart, hoping to tear them down and take over his body once and for all.

Vanitas was alive, somehow, a prisoner in the jail he didn’t know he had become. In all honesty, Ventus didn’t know what to think of it, but his eyes still searched for unknown ones behind that monochrome mask, hoping to find the same answers molten gold would provide. Across the field, the Remnant remained still, mask fixated on him.

A tilt of his head made Roxas hold onto his arm, ready to grab him and bolt if necessary.

If he could see his _face_ —

If this was Vanitas, Ventus was sure he would be blinking lazily at him through thick eyelashes. His eyes would light up with interest, like he had when he discovered Ventus wasn’t too old to learn new tricks, or survive, for that matter.

The Void Gear fell to the ground, shattering into a million pieces and returning to the light it always came from, and Ventus almost couldn’t hear it clank against the ground over the sound of his own heartbeat pounding in his ears.

Ever so slowly, the Remnant raised his hand, as if beckoning him to come closer. The gesture shouldn’t have had any meaning— a sentient Unversed was too funny a joke, only being able to hunt down negativity. At least, so Ventus thought.

For a second, Roxas disappeared. Only a lost boy and the mere shadow of his past stood, gaze fixated on each other. Not the insistent tugging on his sleeve, nor the avid disgust crawling up his unconscious could have broken their connection.

A Flood spawning under the Remnant’s outstretched hand did, however.

It managed to live to its name, the deep blue tint to its skin threatening to blend right back into the black color of its creator standing behind it. Its frail arms twitched, sporadically folding and reaching out as if caught unaware of its own existence. Beady eyes seemed to scan their surroundings, yet the Remnant didn’t seem to be of particular importance to it, if the way it crawled away without looking back even once meant anything.

Huh.

It might have been his imagination, or the fact that he hadn’t seen any of its species in over ten years, but Ventus thought that had to be the smallest Flood he had ever seen. Standing still, its antennae barely managed to stand above the Remnant’s knees, and the Unversed seemed even more intent on snaking its way over the floor, dipping low as it twitched in its place.

Shiny red eyes found blue, and Ventus stopped breathing.

Roxas looked ready to blast the small creature to pieces as it waddled their way, if the light hue emanating from both of his keyblades was anything to go by. No one in their right mind would ever be scared of such a harmless little thing, but there they both were, both blonds looking at it like it would drag them down to unescapable darkness.

If Ventus’ sudden grip on Roxas’ forearm hurt him, he never showed it.

The creature came to a stop before them, and the white and black figure that had summoned it didn’t show any signs of wanting to move any time soon. Roxas’ wariness only seemed to increase as the seconds ticked by, knees bending and looking ready to take off. At least he seemed to have his head on his shoulders. Ventus thought that probably made just one of them.

Restless, nervous, perhaps betraying the very emotion its kind was supposed to be born of, the Flood looked up at Ventus, its pointed head shifting between facing him and the ground, as if unsure. Wayward wind flickered and disappeared.

Roxas opened his mouth, wincing ever so slightly. “Ven—”

With a smooth move, the Flood slithered over the floor, coming to a stop behind Ventus’ leg and holding onto it like a lifeline. No one moved. The Unversed hissed, and Ventus shouldn’t have been able to _understand_ it did so in a happy, content way, so unlike its nature.

_What—_

Thoughts he could easily discern as not his own started filling his mind, chants of emotions he didn’t feel he was supposed to even know of making his head spin. _Undeserving, stupid, weak weak weak weak weak weak—_

Releasing a shaky sigh, Ventus didn’t even think before patting its head.

It was like flicking a switch inside his head. His breathing slowed, his heartbeat quieted down, and even his palms seemed to stop sweating. Deep inside him darkness retreated, giving way to the light associated with his own heart. When the voices stopped, he wondered if it meant Vanitas had fallen prey to it, bound to keep sleeping for as long as his radiance didn’t recede. Thirsty for battle as he was, it probably wouldn’t last long.

Those self deprecating whispers stopped, and the Flood under his hand preened, seeming to thrive under the attention. Under the bright light reflecting off Roxas’ keyblades, its color seemed to be lighter. The Remnant had yet to move, looking more like a frighteningly good statue of his other half than a living being, and Roxas seemed ready to jump off a window.

Reluctantly, as if it physically pained him – which Ventus wouldn’t be surprised if it did –both of his keyblades vanished into light, leaving both of Roxas’ hands free for the first time since Ventus had woken up. His nimble fingers pinched the bridge of his nose so hard Ventus was sure it would break.

Drained both physically and emotionally, Ventus couldn’t have agreed more with the gesture. His head was pounding, as if his body had suddenly remembered the wound in the back of his head, and he braced himself for a sleepless night, hoping to keep the concussion he probably had at bay.

Roxas seemed to struggle to find the words, looking completely and utterly older beyond his years. His right hand clenched into a fist, and whatever he had had on the tip of his tongue was quickly discarded. He sighed, waving it in a circular motion.

“…Let’s just. Let’s just go.”

A dark corridor swiftly opened behind them, its depths less unappealing that Ventus thought they would be. Looking back to where their silent opponent had been standing, he found nothing, and Ventus couldn’t say he was surprised.

He should end it then and there. Its essence would probably go back to Vanitas— the _real_ one this time, he supposed, joining in with every other negative emotion he hoarded. As horrible as it sounded, Ventus thought he would prefer it, after all, he didn’t seem too keen on letting his Unversed self live earlier. It was natural, it just was how the Unversed worked, and yet, Ventus couldn’t have struck the almost pathetic little creature clinging to him if he tried.

If Vanitas was inside his heart, and this Flood remained by his side… wouldn’t that suffice? Wasn’t it the closest an Unversed had ever been of being near the whole version of its creator?

If a certain Flood clung to Ventus tighter as they breached the entrance, no one dared question it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> anyone who follows my [twitter](https://twitter.com/vanvenroku) knows i'm a sucker for floods showing affection for ventus and craving his attention, so I couldn't help myself ghjklghjkl. anyway, hope you enjoyed this ♥


	7. Findings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uni has been kicking my ass but I finally managed to put this together. As always, I hope you enjoy it!

The first thing Ventus saw after exiting the corridor was Xion’s concerned expression.

The girl seemed entranced, looking down at the Kingdom Key in her hands like she didn’t know whether using it would be a good idea. Perhaps she had been about to go after them herself, worried sick and tired of just waiting for them to come back crawling and bloody. Regardless of what inner turmoil she seemed to be facing, her eyes still darted in their direction the very moment they stepped out of the portal.

Roxas seemed unscathed, for the most part. There was no denying the signs of exertion he showed, but his steps were relaxed and carefree, and his clothes didn’t have a single nick on them.

Ventus was a whole different story.

His vest was nothing more than rags at this point, cut up, burned and torn beyond recognition, and one of the holes exposed his shoulder, with that patch of pinkish skin still sore to the touch. He kept going back to it, tracing small circles with his fingers on it as if to soften the ache. At least his head didn’t hurt anymore – _three_ Curas later – but the grime and sweat on the back of his neck would stay until he could take a shower.

On his other shoulder, bracing itself against his neck, the small flood made quiet noises from time to time, cooing in his ear. It cocked its head to the side as they walked, opening those beady red eyes wide, as if everything and anything around them had its complete attention. Hearing those little murmurs and hisses in his ear, Ventus found himself wishing he could see past that apparent curiosity. He would prefer to actually understand what it was saying in words, not having to depend on hunches and wild guesses.

It flinched when it noticed Xion, climbing down his shoulder and hiding behind his frame, and he idly reached back for it, patting its head reassuringly. There was nothing to fear, after all. When it twitched under his hand, seeking more of his touch, Ventus snorted under his breath.

“Where were you all this time?” She asked, her eyes seeming to carefully examine each of them before her hunched shoulders fell in relief. Whatever state she had seen them in, it didn’t seem to be _that_ bad.

Roxas sighed, gesturing with his head towards him. “I followed him all the way to the Badlands. I thought he just wanted to visit the labyrinth or the graveyard itself, but…”

Ventus winced. To think he hadn’t even noticed he was being followed. For all the training he was doing, it didn’t mean anything if he didn’t manage to be aware of his surroundings. Like an idiot, he had let himself get carried away by his routine, and his eagerness to fight the Remnant had clouded all other senses.

Aqua and Terra would be terribly disappointed.

Xion looked at Ventus then, eyes still void of understanding. Ventus couldn’t help but silently agree with the look sent his way. This newfound drive to fight until his knees buckled, this bloodlust he couldn’t ever recall feeling before—

He didn’t understand it either.

It made more sense than before, though. His uneasiness whenever he sat still might have been the result of sleeping for a decade, but perhaps his need for fighting came from Vanitas himself. Could he be affecting them both, riling them up beyond the peace Ventus so desired?

If they could just… talk. Have a civil conversation, find a solution to both of their problems. Ventus didn’t wish to be anyone’s jailer, nor did he want his heart to be anyone’s prison. If there was a way—

“What were you doing there, Ven?” His sight snapped back into focus, snapping out of his thoughts.

Well. Explaining this would be an experience, to say the least. There was no sense in lies or half truths after being caught by Roxas, and if he was being honest, Ventus wasn’t sure what would have happened to him if Roxas hadn’t stepped out of the shadows to distract his opponent until he managed to wake up. Letting out a deep sigh, he gave up.

“I felt the need to go there some time ago. I wasn’t expecting to, you know, find anything really. Then again, I guess I’ve always been connected to that place.” A pause. “It doesn’t matter. After some wandering, Vanitas found me. The only problem was… it wasn’t actually him.”

“But Vanitas disappeared. As far as I know, the organization didn’t retrieve any other versions of him from the past.” If anything, Xion’s frown deepened, brows furrowing in further confusion.

“I think— I think he created an Unversed identical to him, years ago. It must have been hidden in the Badlands all this time, but it just attacked me on sight.”

“And you… kept coming back to fight it? Why?” Her blue eyes looked clouded with worry. Somehow, the image of a concerned Aqua checking to see if he had a fever crossed Ven’s mind.

“It’s pretty strong. Probably not as strong as the real Vanitas, but still a real challenge to fight against. Even their fight styles are similar. I just… I don’t know. It feels good to do so. It keeps me on my toes, it doesn’t leave me any room to breathe. It’s like I’m fighting him, but he’s not mocking me or taunting me every step of the way.”

Roxas raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms. “If you wanted to spar—”

“I know. I do. It’s just not the same.” Ventus interrupted him, feeling like an idiot.

How could he even begin to explain why he preferred fighting an inhuman being rather than any of the wielders of light at his disposal?

The other blond studied him for a few seconds, only sighing in response. Noticing no exasperation on it, Ventus could breathe a little easier. As if keen on his every emotion, his flood climbed up onto his shoulder, tilting its head in question. Not for the first time, he wondered if it was feeding off his negativity.

“You and Vanitas share a deep connection. You used to be parts of a whole, right? Maybe… maybe that’s why you react that way to his Unversed. One that looks like him, maybe one that _fights_ like him, your heart could be reacting to it.” Xion mused, looking deep in thought.

Could that be it? If all Unversed came from Vanitas himself, and were part of him in a way, was his heart getting confused about who it was he was facing in each battle? A pull he hadn’t noticed, driving him to fight it until he could barely stand…

Honestly, he wouldn’t be too surprised if that was the case.

Something prickled his wrist, and Ventus hissed lowly in pain as he looked down at the only possible culprit. The dark creature didn’t seem to give a damn, slithering down his arm and onto the ground as if it didn’t fancy his company anymore. To his surprise, Xion’s expression softened as she cooed at the thing.

“It’s so small.” She muttered, voice filled with wonder. “All the ones I saw around him were way bigger, back in the organization.” She reached out with her hand as if wanting to touch it, before deciding otherwise.

Oh.

Of course. They were on the same team, once.

“Did he… make a lot of Unversed, back then?” Were his materialized emotions running amok as usual? Xion seemed to consider his question, which didn’t make him feel better.

“I guess so. No matter how many he killed, more would appear. They’d come in all shapes and sizes, but I guess floods were the most common ones. They kept following him around, it was kind of a funny sight, honestly.”

Roxas snorted. “Does he ever run out of them?”

“They come from his negative emotions. There is no way for him to just stop feeling them, so I guess not.” Ventus answered. Truth be told, he didn’t know if he could make some off positive emotions. At the same time, he wasn’t sure Vanitas had ever _experienced_ one.

A twinge of pain struck his chest.

Xion and Roxas exchanged glances, the flood by Ven’s feet forgotten. Looking uncomfortable, his lookalike started talking.

“About what happened in the graveyard— your shoulder, how is it feeling? Can you move it comfortably?” He seemed to be dancing around the real question, not knowing how to bring it up. Then again, addressing the black goop that had protected and healed his wounds was not a bad place to start.

Testing the waters, Ventus rolled his shoulder, mindful of any sudden movements. The ache he found wasn’t far from what would be awaiting him the next day after some heavy training; all in all, nothing worth anyone’s concern. He nodded, watching relief wash over Roxas’ expression.

“His shoulder? Did something happen to it?” Xion asked, oblivious to the events that had taken place at the graveyard.

“The Unversed had scalded him. Ven poured darkness all over it and it crystallized, healing most of the damage.” Roxas glanced back at Xion, an unreadable expression on his face. “I’m sure you know what that means.”

She looked uncertain, not knowing what to make of it. Even Ventus was scared of what he had achieved using a power so raw it almost threatened to take him under, but it was not like he could have stopped it in any way. His body had just moved on its own, summoning a strength he didn’t even know he had, following his instinct for survival.

Even Vanitas had seemed disturbed by his power of choice, maybe even jealous of not being the source of such. Thinking back about it, Ventus didn’t know what to believe.

“You need to be careful about how you handle your darkness, Ven. It could turn against you.” Xion said.

As if _he_ hadn’t already done so. The way Vanitas fought back against his every move, pushing him to the limit… it always managed to bring out the worst in him, but he didn’t have any darkness to wield when they met. If his heart had been corrupted by Vanitas’ unexpected reappearance, then…

“Forget about the fact that you actually materialized it. We need to focus on the fact that your darkness is starting to be noticeable to others. First things first… Aqua and Terra don’t know about this.” It was a statement, not a question. Ventus felt his face light up in shame. The flood clutching at his leg twitched in place.

“You can tell, can’t you. They know I’ve been training a lot, but that’s about it. I only learned I could use it just before you arrived.”

Roxas blinked, perplexed. “Did you use it before passing out?”

So far, so good. Time for the difficult part.

“Vanitas was trying to take over my body, so I guess I just… pushed him back with my darkness.”

Everyone went still at that, carefully processing his sentence. Even the small thing by his ankles seemed to quiet its erratic movements, regarding him in a way he couldn’t decipher. If it expected some sort of orders, he wasn’t going to get them from him. After a few seconds, Xion opened her mouth, closing it right after. Finally finding the words, she spoke.

“But… you said that Unversed wasn’t Vanitas.” Cautious as ever, her voice remained calm, reassuring, willing to hear him out. Ventus couldn’t feel more grateful.

“He came back.” He showed them a bitter smile. “He’s resting inside my heart.”

 

* * *

 

The flood he had somehow adopted as his own didn’t seem to know how to stay still in his room. It seemed to blend in with the shadows, almost invisible when it shied away from the moonlight coming from his window. With childlike curiosity, it explored the ceiling, the wardrobe, the space under his bed. Restless as ever, it seemed to find solace there, and Ventus felt a tinge of amusement when its bright red eyes stared back at him from the darkness.

Not the kind of monster he thought he would find under his bed, honestly.

At the sight of it, Ventus couldn’t help but yawn, feeling all the exhaustion from the day drag him in its direction. The soft mattress did nothing to alleviate the deep tiredness settled in his bones. Before he knew it, his eyes were closed, and his problems momentarily forgotten.

Not that it would last.

The Land of Departure he faced when he cracked open his eyelids was different than the one he knew and loved. It seemed odd in a way he couldn’t put a finger on, comforting and warm it shouldn’t be possible in this season. Fortunately, Ventus didn’t have to think much before arriving at the reason as to why everything felt off and right at the same time.

The darkness might have disappeared, but there was no denying the silhouette of his other half, sitting on the grass with his back to him. The muscles of his back seemed stiff, his shoulders hunched— his presence clearly hadn’t gone unnoticed.

Not letting his growing anxiety get a hold of him, Ventus spoke.

“I’m not here to fight, Vanitas.”

In the dark of the night, the red lines flowing down his arms and chest were glaringly obvious, looking like someone had carved them themselves and left him there to bleed. Half turning to look back at him, Vanitas sent him a look full of annoyance.

Oddly enough, Ventus noticed, he seemed to be biting the inside of his cheek. Before he could follow up with something else, Vanitas clicked his tongue, yellow eyes impossible to ignore in the dimly lit clearing.

“And what are you here for, then? To have some laughs at my expense? To reassure your _friends_ you have everything under control?” He chuckled, his cackles loud and nearly hysterical. “You don’t. You really, really, don’t.”

“Most of them don’t even know you’re alive!” Ventus snapped, already feeling how that laughter got under his skin.

Mocking his decisions, making him feel like he was missing something in the picture— whatever it was, Vanitas always managed to rile him up.

He hated it.

“Most of them, huh.” He seemed to ponder this, eyes focusing on the running water by his feet. His eyes widened a fraction, and not for the first time, Ventus wondered just what it was he was missing. “Ah, the puppet for sure. Maybe… maybe the brat that looks like you, too. You’ve always known how to pick them, Ventus.”

He wasn’t wrong. He _wasn’t_. Just how could he read him so easily?

“She’s not a puppet, she’s my friend!”

Vanitas rolled his eyes. “She is. She was created for a purpose, and she was allowed to live only for said purpose. You could even call me one, if it makes you feel better. The fact that she’s one of your friends changes nothing.”

Ventus scowled, finding more truth in his words than he was willing to take in. Still…

“How do you know who I’ve talked to about this? Just how aware of what’s outside are you?”

“Oh, you wouldn’t tell anyone else about your special source of power. I can’t even imagine you telling your precious Terra or Aqua about it. No, you wouldn’t tell any of your traditional light wielders, but former members of the organization?” He grinned, leaning his face on his fist. “It’s that easy. Poor Venty Wenty is too pure to acknowledge he’s going dark.”

He could run from this, stop training, find a suitable excuse. After the war, he didn’t think anyone would question him if he were to settle down, maybe devote himself to teaching kids the basics. But in doing so, Ventus would be ignoring both the source and the other victim of the problem—

The person in front of him.

Without thinking, following his very heart, he sputtered, “Help me control it.”

Vanitas’ smirk fell, leaving way to endless incredulity. Gold bore right into sapphire, looking for traces of dishonesty that just wouldn’t ever be found. Letting out a startled laugh that escalated into plenty, Vanitas eventually spoke, wiping real tears from his eyes.

“You’re kidding me.” His voice cracked, and he couldn’t look less trusting even if he tried. As the seconds passed, his face seemed to pale as he realized it was just the opposite.

“I’m not. It’s weird, it feels _wrong_ — I-I don’t even know why I have it!” Ventus’ voice went quiet, almost inaudible. “I don’t want it to hurt anyone.”

“It’s not that fucking easy—”

“I saw how this place looked earlier, there was no light to be seen.” Ventus cut him off, looking desperate himself. “Do you want to be here when it swallows everything up? Or do you want to _not_ die for once?”

Seconds ticked by as they stood there, staring at each other in silence. Eventually, Vanitas just summoned the black screen around his helmet back, covering whatever expression he had been about to show him. Despite his lack of a vocalized answer, that was as good a response as any he could possibly get.

Feeling exhausted, Ventus smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me, trying to move the plot along: h  
> find me [here](https://twitter.com/vanvenroku)


	8. Trial

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this chapter isn't too confusing LMAO. The plot is starting to move along, I promise. I hope this chapter satisfies the thirst for cute content of every single flood lover out there. Enjoy!

The first thing he saw upon waking up was red.

Ventus squinted, blinking in an attempt to make the blurriness of his eyesight fade away, yet failing. It was only after leaning back slightly on his elbows that he actually made out the form of the flood standing on his chest, staring at him intently. Ventus yelped in surprise, almost making the poor thing fall off his lap.

Well, _that_ woke him up.

He wasn’t even surprised when it let out a weak screech, bolting off him and hiding, undoubtedly, under his bed. Great work, Ventus. You managed to scare it off.

Covering his face with his hands, the blond let out a sigh, stretching his arms over his head before leaning over the edge of his bed. Hanging upside down, he peered at the cowering being against the wall, trying not to look too menacing.

“Hey, uh… I’m sorry, little guy.” He whispered, as if he feared raising his voice would just make the flood slip through the cracks on the floorboards.

Why did he feel so guilty? It had to be how cute it was. He had never had any kind of pet.

The flood didn’t look too convinced – which was understandable, as he wasn’t sure he would be comfortable with a monster way bigger than him cornering him like that. It would probably be better to let it have some space instead of smothering it… just how did _Vanitas_ treat his Unversed, anyway?

He waited for any intrusive thought he didn’t recognize as his to provide an answer, but none came.

Fine. Space it was, then.

Maybe he could try to lure it out with some food, if it was anything like an animal. It was a very naive take on these creatures, but without any more knowledge at his disposal, and knowing full well Vanitas’ advice would be killing it without remorse, it was still worth a try.

Aqua and Terra would probably still be having breakfast by then, so it would be pretty easy to grab a spare apple or two without arising suspicion. Did floods even have teeth? He could just… cut it into tiny little pieces, maybe. As Snow White would say, even the grumpiest could be easily swayed by some delicious food.

With a mission on his mind and his newfound pet of sorts still in hiding, he got off the bed, marching towards his closet. It would do no good to appear before his friends in the ragged clothes he had ruined the day before. Luckily for him, no keyblade wielder ever came unscathed under Eraqus’ training methods, and he had more than enough outfits to spare. At least his shoulder piece was just fine; the small scratch marks on its surface were barely distinguishable amidst the other ones obtained throughout the years.

Ventus was thankful for that. He wasn’t sure what would become of his keyblade armor if it received any major damage.

When his clothes looked as good as usual and he had given up on the task of taming his messy bed hair, Ventus approached the door of his room. Looking back over his shoulder, he awkwardly called out.

“Don’t go anywhere, alright? I’ll be right back!”

Locking the door behind him, he sincerely hoped the flood would still be there once he came back. It would be difficult enough to keep it off sight, and its origins were impossible to lie about. He just… needed some time to solve this whole mess. In time, Aqua and Terra would come to know everything from him, not from finding an unversed gone rogue inside the castle.

There was a certain spring to his step as he walked down the corridor, his footsteps light and his head held high. What was there to be upset about? Even Vanitas – Vanitas, of all people – had decided to help him avoid killing them both… probably. Most likely.

Had he?

Truth was, Ventus couldn’t remember ever seeing him agree to it. Sure, there hadn’t been a negative response… if ignoring him until he left couldn’t be counted as one.

He frowned, steps coming to a stop in the middle of the hallway.

Had they actually reached an agreement, or was this just Vanitas’ way of dismissing him indefinitely?

In all honesty, Ventus probably didn’t exactly need him, he guessed. Yes, there was no better person to teach him how to use his own darkness than the physical manifestation of most of it, but Roxas was still a likely option. Having spent time in the organization, he was sure to—

_Stop it. I’m a better teacher than that stupid dark wielder wannabe._

Oh, so they _could_ communicate this way. Figures. Focusing on that distinctive voice, he thought a response.

_Does that mean you’ll help me, or not?_

He probably looked dumb enough talking to himself, let alone trying to communicate with the single entity captive inside his heart by thinking. Vanitas could also just ignore him – if it was really him and not a fragment of his vivid imagination after all – and leave him hanging if he so desired. This whole system was bound to be a failure.

_Heh. It’s not like I have a choice._

Ventus snorted, despite it being painfully true for both of them. Guess facing erasure was a real concern for him. Oh, but before he could forget—

_Vanitas, what do Unversed eat?_

He was startled by laughter that seemed to have no end, which was the only reply he got. The image of a grinning and amused beyond words Vanitas crossed his mind, and Ventus frowned. It was a valid question, damn it. He wasn’t the one that created them.

_Figure it out yourself._

Without a doubt, the conversation was over. He tried calling Vanitas back, but either he didn’t care enough to answer or there were some conditions to this way of talking between them he didn’t know about. Fair enough.

By the time he had reached his destination, Ventus had given up on communicating with him again. He would just bring different things back to his room and see what the little flood under his care preferred… if it was still back there, of course. Sighing, he pushed the door open.

The smell of toasted bread and freshly baked cookies filled his nostrils, threatening to make him levitate in its general direction. There were apples and what seemed to be orange juice on the center of the table His hunger spiked, his stomach rumbled, and Ventus tried his best not to run to the table.

Terra watched him knowingly, patting his back and smiling once he sat down, while Aqua muttered something that sounded like _just a second_ under her breath as she wrote tirelessly on the book she held. Master stuff, he presumed; there was so much knowledge to transcribe after Eraqus’ passing that they were still on the lookout for any and all scattered notes hidden inside the castle. Putting them all in the same place and properly documenting them took time.

“Morning!” Ventus exclaimed, his mood turning better by the second. He eyed the bread and fruit of him with interest, thinking just what would be appropriate for a being born from darkness.

“Someone woke up on the right side of the bed.” Terra joked, nudging the tray of cookies in his direction. Ventus gratefully picked one, taking a bite almost immediately. Really, who was he to reject such an offer?

Aqua hummed in agreement, sending him a small smile over the top of her book. “Anything you want to share with the class, Ven?”

Wasn’t that the question of the century? Ventus took more time than needed to swallow, hoping his voice didn’t crack and reveal just how much of a filthy liar he was turning into. Figuring taking any more seconds would make him look even more suspicious, he spoke.

“I don’t know. I had a good night’s sleep, that’s all.”

Terra looked amused. “With all the training you’ve been doing, I’m surprised you woke up this early today. Eat up. You’ll need the energy.” Aqua shook her head fondly, as if she didn’t expect anything else from him. Her tongue was sticking out as she struggled to write an astounding amount of words on the margins of the page she was on.

He was more than happy to dig in as he pleased, especially once he wasn’t under the interested stare of both of his friends.

Half an hour later, after Aqua had dragged Terra off to who knew where with the excuse of training for his Mark of Mastery exam, Ventus still remained where he stood, carefully trying to balance the disproportionate mess he intended to carry back to his room. From a tangerine to a peach, picking up a couple of cookies and an uneaten toast that was probably too hard by then, there was plenty for that flood to choose from.

Now there was only the matter of whether anything he had picked would actually be eaten by the creature. There was no harm in trying. Ventus certainly didn’t want to just drag him out of its hiding spot by force; like its actual owner, nothing good could ever come from making it do things it clearly didn’t want to.

The door to his room was still locked – which, honestly, didn’t mean much. Sure, Terra and Aqua hadn’t come by, but he had seen floods sink into the ground with his own eyes. Escaping by slithering under the door seemed way too plausible for Ventus to find the sight of it calming. Using his chin to achieve some sort of good enough hold to allow a hand to slip free, he turned the doorknob and let himself in, closing the door with a well-aimed kick.

“Are you still here?” His own words almost made him want to slap himself immediately after saying them. What did he expect, a verbal response? No wonder Vanitas found him stupid. Letting out a long sigh, Ventus kneeled on the floor, carefully placing down the items he had been carrying. He stopped the lone tangerine from rolling away beyond his reach and proceeded to slowly move his chest closer to the floor, checking under the bed.

Despite having no way of knowing if it had actually stayed there the whole time, the floor was exactly where Ventus had last seen it, figure still, its beady red eyes unblinking. It should have been at least somewhat disturbing… but the blond only snorted at the sight.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” He murmured, reaching out with a single hand toward its direction. “Come on out, buddy. I have some stuff for you to try out!”

He could make out the flood tilting its head at that, but it didn’t take a single step forward. It was a moment as good as any to ponder about whether he believed any Unversed could actually understand him, or if they just listened to Vanitas.

Time to test that out.

His hand reached back for his first candidate – a delicious looking red apple. He had picked a small one, hoping to avoid having to cut it in tiny little pieces. He had found no recipients to bring everything in, and Ventus wasn’t sure he wanted to know how the flood would react to the sight of a knife if he were to cut it in his room. On the brink of actually feeling nervous about the whole ordeal, he offered it to the small creature.

Nothing.

“Fair enough.” Ventus sighed. He liked fruit, but that didn’t mean his new friend shared his tastes. Perhaps something sweeter would manage to catch its attention. His hand closed around a chocolate chip cookie, sadly cold by then. He could try to bring a freshly made one for it if it ended up liking the recipe, he presumed. Ventus held it out to the flood, wishing for a better result than on his last try.

In all honesty, some part of him wasn’t surprised when it only stared up at him. It was difficult to tell if the distant laughter in his head was Vanitas’, or just his imagination’s perception of how he would react to the show in front of him. Ventus bit his lip, trying to think of any alternatives. There were more options at his disposal, but somehow, he didn’t think the Unversed would find a bit of bread or a croissant that much different from what it had already been offered.

Think, Ventus.

The Unversed came from Vanitas, who created them off his own rampant emotions. Short of actually devouring their true master – which he didn’t think could be the answer – did they just…?

Perhaps it was as easy as negativity feeding off negativity. So far, it had been the most responsive when he had been in pain or thinking about Vanitas himself. Sure, it could be a coincidence, as they hadn’t even spent a whole day together, but it did feel like the right track.

Something – probably someone – stirred in the back of his consciousness, full on intent on witnessing his next attempt.

Ventus had never been a pessimist. He truly believed there was a solution to every problem, a light at the end of the tunnel. He might have been different years ago, but with no way of knowing who he was before Xehanort tore him apart, no one could tell. Despite it all, he was still capable of feeling helpless as he watched his friends being hurt, of crying when a situation seemed hopeless beyond salvation.

He had experienced despair a decade ago.

The memories were bittersweet. He knew they were nothing but remnants of the past, glimpses of a future that Xehanort hadn’t managed to make a reality. They all had Sora to thank for that. He pushed them to the front of his mind, feeling his chest clench in response. His throat closed up for a second, his hand flew to his chest, and Ventus closed his eyes.

He felt more than heard the flood approaching him, pawing at his hand.

 _Well,_ a surprisingly serious voice finally called from the back of his mind.

_Perhaps you can be trained after all, Ventus._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ventus using darkness by following his instinct on this fic and Vanitas being Impressed by it is something you'll have to pry off my cold, dead hands. dfghdfgh that being said, you can find me [here](https://twitter.com/vanvenroku) and I sincerely hope you enjoyed this! Thank you all for your support ♥


	9. Unfit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i.... i don't even know what to say.

Falling asleep was a struggle.

He didn’t know any other ways of reaching the space inside his heart without hurting himself in the process; which he honestly would rather avoid. Ventus wasn’t even sure just falling asleep would be enough for it to work. For all he knew, he could wake up the next day, untrained and disappointed, and have to endure Vanitas’ scathing words for the rest of the day.

His flood had stopped exploring his room— for _now_ , at least. The keyblade wielder had stopped hearing its chirping sounds of curiosity what felt like hours ago, even though it had probably been no more than a few minutes. It kept twitching on the spot it had chosen by his side, its antennae brushing against his chest.

Part of him wanted the creature to go back into hiding, the same part that was frustrated enough as it was. He doubted there were any clear instructions on how to drop your consciousness back to your own heart, but perhaps the castle’s archives would have tried to prove him wrong, if he had deigned to consult them. Keyblade wielders were known to achieve unlikely things, after all.

Ventus sighed.

Even with his eyes closed, he didn’t feel any closer to his goal. At this rate, he would just end up taking a nap. He was too restless, and yet too safe, to drop where he wanted.

Vanitas had remained oddly silent throughout the whole ordeal, and Ventus wasn’t sure if that was a good or a bad thing. For once, the lack of taunting words in his head wasn’t that encouraging. For all he knew, they might have been the push off the edge he was currently clinging to that he so desperately needed.

Was he even aware of what Ventus was doing at the moment?

For a second, he considered sending some scathing words of his own – true or not – if only to catch his attention. The pros and cons were weighed in his mind. In the end, having an angry presence capable of getting in his head was something Ventus wasn’t looking forward to, he decided. Common sense won over the tiny chance of Vanitas actually helping him out with the problem at hand.

The flood let out a quiet screech, and a single blue eyed opened to peek at it.

“Got any answers for me, little guy?” He whispered, reaching out to pet its small head. Its skin was freezing cold against his fingers, but somehow, he wasn’t surprised. Of course touching the embodiment of a negative emotion – whichever this one was supposed to be – would chill him to the bone.

It only peered up at him, void of any answers to give. Ventus realized he hadn’t been expecting one at all. Closing his eyes yet again, he tried to ignore his surroundings more than before. Seconds passed, then minutes, and his consciousness started slipping away. Just when sleep threatened to take over him, a strong, almost demanding grip dragged him deeper below the surface.

_Can’t do anything right, huh._

His eyes warily opened to see the starry night he seemed to be so fond of, his back flush against the wet grass. Could it rain in here? Ventus winced, taking a deep breath to steel his nerves as he sat up.

A few steps away, Vanitas snorted. Blue eyes darted to his figure, taking in his usual attire. His helmet was off, only the headpiece remaining to frame his face. Its jagged edges must have dug into his skin multiple times, he realized.

Talk about painful.

“Take a picture. It will last longer.” Vanitas sneered, right hand twitching against his side. Ventus almost visualized light encasing his fingers as he summoned his weapon, but the somber silhouette of the Void Gear never appeared.

Weird.

Keeping his own keyblade unsummoned, Ventus spoke. “You dragged me here.” A statement, not a question. His mind was still reeling, not entirely happy with the sudden change of setting.

“You weren’t going to make it. I figured I’d rather get you here myself instead of prorogating this.” Vanitas seemed to be very interested on his nails… for someone using gloves. Golden eyes reluctantly met his own, and Ventus swallowed.

“Is that… something I should be concerned about? You taking over my body?” He mumbled, unable to hide his concern at the news.

If he could drag his consciousness here and then pick up the reins, how was Ventus supposed to keep anything horrible from happening? Just because they had managed to go through a semblance of a civil conversation it didn’t mean Vanitas’ intentions had changed… and yet, Xehanort was gone.

What would he fight for, if he was released from this prison?

Vanitas shrugged, smirking like he knew something Ventus didn’t. “Who knows? You wouldn’t exactly be in any position to restrain me if I did, would you?”

In a second, Ventus knew. He was _dodging_ the question.

The knowledge made the cogs in his head turn, sending his mind off to multiple tangents. Vanitas was obviously not telling him everything he knew… or was he? Twisting the truth, bending it to suit his ideas— was he also willing to lie to the only person he could talk to?

Given that said person was Ventus, he wouldn’t be too surprised if that was the case. Planning to dwell on it later, Ventus let it go.

“So what are we going to do exactly?” Ventus asked, standing up. His legs didn’t wobble, which he couldn’t be more thankful for. The last thing he needed was giving Vanitas yet another reason to laugh at his expense.

Vanitas hummed, pretending to mull it over, but the blond wasn’t fooled. This was a weird situation that neither of them wanted to be in. Making it more difficult to deal with than it already was would be stupid, as would be postponing this training.

“You know, I’ve been thinking. You can’t fight at all.” He said calmly, like he was talking about the weather.

Ventus blinked once. Twice. His expression turned into a frown.

“What?” He couldn’t help being offended by the comment. “I beat you! I beat so many people!”

Vanitas shrugged, not impressed or affected by his outburst at all, and Ventus scowled. How was he able to say that to his face after their last encounter, just before Ventus fell asleep? Hadn’t he died? His body _had_ perished – Ventus’ doing – and his heart, if it could be labelled as such, had broken into a thousand pieces inside his own – also Ventus’ doing.

His bored expression made his heart rate go up in seconds, inexplicably mad. Was killing not enough for this guy?

“You did. You also got frozen solid and dropped off a cliff. An incredible feat, Ventus.” Vanitas replied, an eyebrow rising as if daring him to correct his words.

Ventus sputtered, opening and closing his mouth as he struggled to find the words to say to that. He was mad to find that there wasn’t much he could say in his defense. The memory of Xehanort catching him by the throat, holding him over the edge as he flailed in his grasp. Terra, out of sight. Aqua, staring up at him in horror as he fell to what he perceived as his certain death.

Unconsciously, his hand flew up to his throat, chasing down an ache that wasn’t there anymore. His jaw clenched, trying to swallow around the knot in his throat.

“I’m sorry witnessing that caused you so much distress.” Ventus eventually muttered, venom dripping from his tone. “I’ll try not to die the next time an old man with some big plans threatens my life.”

Vanitas rolled his eyes, starting to count with his fingers. “Stop sulking. Your defense is weak, you have too many openings and you only use your eyes to predict a threat, when your awareness is passable at _best_. Speed won’t save you from everything. There is always going to be someone that’s faster than you.”

Silence.

Truth be told, he had been expecting some more nonsensical, provocative answers. They were all things he had already heard before, either from Aqua, Terra, or Eraqus back when he was alive. Recklessness had always been a certain problem of his— attacking without thinking, being so caught up in the throes of battle than he forgot to pay attention to what was around him. The disaster Vanitas had so carelessly mentioned couldn’t be a better example of how one track minded he could really be.

When it came to saving his friends, it got _bad_.

In the end, he had come to Vanitas out of fear for his own darkness, and what it would imply for both of them if it ever got out of control. Ventus was supposed to learn from this— he might as well try. Rubbing one side of his face, he nodded.

“Fine. Fine. What do you suggest?”

His counterpart stepped closer, stopping closer than anyone would deem appropriate. Without even thinking, Ventus gave a step back to get back his personal space, but his other half mirrored him. Once, twice, thrice. This could go for minutes, he realized. Indulging Vanitas’ whims was the only thing that could procure them an inkling of productivity. Frowning slightly, he stopped his attempts.

Vanitas snorted, walking around until he stood right behind him. The need to turn around and at the very least face him was uncontrollable. Hadn’t he just mentioned how poor his defense was? He doubted showing his enemy his back was a good idea.

…Was that what they were now?

Their conversation at the graveyard had made something awfully clear: Vanitas wanted nothing to do with those who walked the path of light. Still, with his master dead and what remained of the Organization unwilling to pursue his goal, what else was there for him?

Maybe, if he could manage to convince him—

Two gloved hands covered his eyes, impairing him of his vision. Like clockwork, his own immediately shot up to grab Vanitas’ wrists to try and tug them down, but his grip remained unmovable.

“What are you doing?” Ventus asked, not in the mood for playing around. Vanitas’ chest was a solid presence against his back, his arms ensuring that even if he did manage to pry his hands off, he would still remain inside a headlock.

“We’re training. You rely too much on what you can see, it’s ridiculous. The moment someone steps out of your field of vision, you’re weak.” Vanitas replied, sounding distracted. His chest rose and fell with every breath and Ventus—

Ventus was all too aware of it.

His right hand called his keyblade on instinct alone, perhaps in answer to his next shaky intake of breath. If Vanitas felt threatened by it, he didn’t show it.

“And blinding me is going to help how?”

“You’re too used to fighting in the light to use your instincts. Can’t blame you, I guess.” Vanitas mused.

The hands over his eyes kept Ventus from seeing anything as Vanitas talked into his ear, and the impulse to shy away from their grip grew stronger. As he felt the telltale signs of a smirk against his ear, Ventus’ hold on his keyblade tightened.

“I’ve been doing just fine using my eyes before.” He mumbled, voice calmer than he honestly expected it to be. In his mind, Ventus could almost picture Vanitas quirking an eyebrow in response.

“Have you now.”

Vanitas lifted his hands, and the blond ever so slowly opened his eyes.

Nothing but darkness awaited his vision.

Instantly, his own hands flew to his face, palming the solid visor blocking his eyesight. Its smooth surface taunted him, opaque like no natural material could ever have been. Ventus gritted his teeth. Ripping it off would be so easy… his hands itched to do so, to have something other than his ears to tell him where the danger would come from.

Behind him, Vanitas watched him, twirling his Void Gear in his hand.

“…So that’s how you fix your helmet every time.” Ventus wondered, tracing the rim with his fingers. At last, a straightforward answer. “You could have just told me to close my eyes.”

Vanitas’ voice came from somewhere to his right, and Ventus turned his body in its direction. “And risk having you cheat? No way.”

Suddenly, it came from behind him, only to change to his right in a second. He only managed to raise his keyblade to block the incoming strike by the skin of his teeth. The strength of the blow threatened to shove him backwards even as Ventus held his ground, and Vanitas laughed.

“Do pay attention, Ventus.”

It was impossible to keep up with his movements. As soon as Ventus thought he had pinned down his opponent’s position, it changed. He didn’t know if Vanitas was using afterimages to teleport or if he slithered his way across the ground as a shadow, but whatever the method, it was working. Blocking hit after hit, Ventus’ stance suffered, and it wasn’t long before the first one connected with his back, sending him rolling on the grass.

His keyblade had slipped from his grasp so he called it back, feeling its reassuring weight back in his hold after a second. Flinching as his back protested, he jumped to his feet, ears straining as he tried to catch even the quietest noise.

“What’s wrong? Too much for you?” A mocking voice uttered behind him, his breath tickling the nape of his neck. Ventus went rigid, reacting a second too late. He couldn’t have foreseen the powerful kick that hit his stomach, leaving him breathless.

Gasping for air, he casted a shield, hearing Vanitas click his tongue in response as he clutched his side.

“What… what is your problem? How am I supposed to learn anything like this?” Ventus protested, struggling to regain a normal breathing pattern.

“I thought you said you didn’t need your eyes.”

A blast shattered his shield, and Ventus coughed when he accidentally filled his lungs with the resulting smoke. An almost imperceptible shift in the space to his right signaled the coming of the Void Gear, cutting through the air. Despite having recognized the threat for what it was, the blond didn’t raise his own weapon in time, resulting in a blow against his shoulder that had him seeing stars.

“Stop!” Ventus yelled, jumping away despite his fear of making a misstep and turning the situation into one even less favorable than before.

“We’re not done yet.” Vanitas airily replied from somewhere in front of him. Or was he? The splash of water coming from a puddle to his right was the only warning Ventus got that allowed him to parry Vanitas’ attack, stopping it with a strong strike of his own that had his shoulder hurting in protest immediately.

But Vanitas was far from done, and he wasn’t above playing a dirty trick or two. The headbutt against his own head caught him by surprise, and he groaned in pain as the now shattered edges of his visor cut a line down his cheek. He could faintly notice Vanitas stepping back, probably gathering momentum to hit him yet again.

“I said stop!” His right hand almost moved on its own, pointing Wayward Wind in front of him. A Dark Firaga came out of its extreme, its projectiles shining bright as Vanitas did his best to dodge them.

His visor didn’t hold out for long. Seconds later, spidery cracks covered the whole thing, and as if it had been made of glass all along, it crumbled and fell to pieces, its remains pooling by his feet.

By the time he opened his eyes, Vanitas had gone very, very still, his eyes blown wide and face pale as his hand remained outstretched in the space between them. Ventus coughed, wiping the blood from his face and nose as best as he could.

“This— this lesson is over.” The blond rasped out, clutching the weapon in his grasp like a man possessed. Its end glowed with the promise of another darker, more efficient attack. “I remember enough about Xehanort to understand where you might have been misled, but this? This is plain torture, not training.”

Vanitas visibly swallowed, unable to spill a single word for once. His Void Gear hung from his fingers, his grip slack. Apart from that, he didn’t seem to react. Ventus looked away from that haunted look, already in progress of waking up.

“I’m leaving.” Ventus managed, turning on his heel as the light claimed him.

No one tried to stop him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we're around halfway! things will get a bit... rough from now on. vanitas isn't exactly the best teacher because, well, look at who taught him. he realized his simmilarities to xehanort at the end, which is why he stop and snapped out of it. I Don’t condone this type of behavior, but while writing this chapter I realized there was.... no way to make vanitas understand how wrong he was without seeing just what xehanort had been doing to him. ventus’ wounds don’t carry over to the real world. ANYWAY, as always, i hoped you liked it, let me know what you think. i'll be [here](https://twitter.com/vanvenroku), as usual


	10. Progress

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update! Even though I had a week long break, I have so many projects to tend to from uni that I really needed to just step back and give them the attention they needed. As a consolation (and because splitting this chapter in two felt off to me) this chapter is almost twice the usual length. I'm sorry for replying late as well, I actually didn't see any review up until... just now lmao. I really appreciate your support, and I hope you enjoy this!
> 
> warning for emetophobia by the way.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Ventus knew that. It didn’t take a genius to acknowledge the fact that even though his goals seemed well within reach, the method he intended to use was far from ideal. Leaning back against the wall of the clocktower, Ventus let out a deep sigh. To his right, Roxas took a bite out of his sea salt ice cream, waiting for him to dare to try and prove him wrong.

Honestly, Ventus didn’t think he would achieve such a thing, but oh, was he willing to try.

“Vanitas isn’t cooperating. What other dark wielder do you know that isn’t actually dead?”

Roxas quirked an eyebrow. “I don’t know why you thought he’d be of any help.”

Realizing Ventus had opened his mouth to fight that statement, Roxas waved a hand dismissively. Something in him still insisted on defending him even now; Vanitas wasn’t _that_ bad, maybe just confused, scared, like Terra once was—

Like they all were, at some point.

On the night of their fight, he couldn’t manage to sleep. Every time Ventus closed his eyes the image of wide, fearful golden eyes festered on his mind, leaving him unable of having any other rational thoughts. The sudden stiffness to his shoulders, the almost unappreciable flinch of his frame, his hand, reaching out to stop that which he had caused himself, only to close around thin air—

Little details that drove any remaining want for sleep away.

And so Ventus had lied on his bed, head turned towards the star filled night sky beyond his window and marveled at the uncanny resemblance the landscape on his heart had to the actual thing, despite the shrouds of darkness that seemed to haunt it at times.

The small bump in volume in Roxas’ voice dragged him back into his body, snapping him out of his day dreaming stupor.

 “—Don’t take me wrong, he seems strong. You’re connected. It makes sense, but he didn’t exactly have the best teacher, did he? I don’t know, I would have been surprised if he actually had proved to be a calm and patient one.”

Ventus winced, having thought about that himself.

Xehanort had been many things. A man hungry for power, for one, ready to bend and break any rules to his will for what he thought to be a necessary evil, even if those rules were kids who hadn’t asked to grow up so fast. A mentor so hard to please that what little Ventus remembered of his lessons still plagued his nightmares. A ruler with no kingdom who took what he wanted, uncaring and blind to any collateral damage.

Ventus would know.

“I just thought—” Ventus started, only to stop when he didn’t find the words.

What? What exactly had he been expecting, for Vanitas to extend a hand out to him when he fell, hauling him to his feet with a soft smile? For him to hold off in every blow, not taking the chance to destroy him in every parry?

Vanitas wasn’t Aqua, nor Terra.

And yet, he definitely _wasn’t_ Xehanort, either. The scars left in both of their hearts by him ran deep, and his abusive and aggressive way of training had made a dent on Vanitas, but they weren’t the same. Xehanort wouldn’t have stopped even if he had cried, even if Ventus couldn’t have done anything but to cling and sink his nails into the ground, caked with dirt and blood.

Ignoring the knot in his throat, Ventus glanced at a face identical to his, and wondered if he looked as concerned as Roxas did in that very moment. _I don’t even think he wants to see me_ lingered on the tip of his tongue, turning his mouth to ash.

“I don’t know what to do.” He said instead, and meant it.

Roxas shrugged, flicked his wrist, and they both watched as a corridor opened behind them, precariously close to the edge.

“You want me to help you? I will.” Roxas gestured towards the portal with his free hand. “I don’t know much about anything though. Xemnas wanted me to stay in the light so I could reap hearts, not to give up to darkness. But Ven, you have to understand— I don’t think it’s a good idea. I don’t know what’s going on with this… new darkness of yours, but it’s… it could be bad. Very bad.” A beat. “Xion is worried.”

 _That’s turning into her usual state_ , Ventus thought, biting the inside of his cheek so it wouldn’t leave his mouth.

“I’ve been thinking about that,” Ventus muttered, hands tightening their grip around the edge they were sitting on. “I think that darkness is Vanitas’ fault.” Then, startled by his own words, he quickly amended, “Not his fault! He doesn’t seem to be doing it on purpose! But I think his presence in my heart is what allowed this to happen.”

“Sounds about right to me.”

Ventus sputtered, not having expected such immediate validation. After taking a look at his expression, Roxas laughed, and the sound was almost drowned by the sudden tolling of the bells. He should be heading back soon, he realized. Even this seemingly timeless city followed the same rules as the other worlds.

“What? Your heart was made almost completely of light before this, he goes back to it and suddenly darkness is drawn to you? It doesn’t take a genius.”

“So what am I supposed to do? Take him out?”

Roxas shrugged. “It’s what Sora did with me.” His voice turned softer, and his eyes glazed over as he stared at the sunset. None of them knew what to do about the elephant in the room, but the silence started to affect Ventus after a while.

“He’ll come back.”

“Who?” As if he didn’t know.

“Sora.” Ventus paused, measuring his words carefully. “He’s always managed to bring everyone back. So even if he—” Ventus swallowed, “even if he found himself in a difficult situation, he wouldn’t miss the chance to finally be with his friends.”

Ventus couldn’t have been sure – he couldn’t see Roxas’ expression well from this angle, and he wasn’t sure he was meant to be aware of it, either – but he could have sworn Roxas’ lips trembled. A harsh sound left his lips, and Ventus wasn’t sure if it was closer to a laugh or a sob.

“That does sound like him.”

 

 

_It’s a terrible idea._

Ventus jolted, his steps faltering.

It was one thing to hear it from Roxas, who was correctly morally aligned and genuinely worried for his safety. It was a whole different thing altogether to hear it from the guy who hadn’t talked to him in _days_. All of a sudden it was like his life had come to a screeching halt, tilted off kilter by a presence he still hadn’t worked out how to feel about.

Definitely not thrilled, despite his talk with the blond. Still, Ventus hadn’t been taught manners to end up ignoring any person who talked to him – especially after their radio silence – and he found himself replying in earnest.

_Care to explain why?_

One, two, three. Ventus counted the steps on the barren land he found himself at before a familiar voice answered him, its tone as low as the blows it usually exchanged.

_You can’t be trusted around that thing. I thought I had managed to get that through your thick skull._

Now, Ventus wasn’t stupid. The last time he had battled against whatever roamed the Badlands he had simply lived to tell the tale because Roxas had been paranoid enough to follow him after their last encounter. He had been lucky to come out almost unscathed, as the injuries on his shoulder had been catered to by the darkness released in his unconscious state.

But he _was_ greedy, and curious, and he lacked the energy to try wrestling Vanitas’ bad habits into submission. Their last fight was still etched into the back of his eyelids, and his other half’s words stirred a feeling of defiance that couldn’t help banging its fists against the surface.

Perhaps, in different circumstances, he would have pegged them for what they were: a harmless warning.

Not that day.

His shoes kicked up dirt as he walked, ocean colored eyes warily searching his surroundings as he kept his keyblade at the ready, grip steady. Nothing caught his attention, which was as expected as it was disappointing. Using his alarm to catch the Remnant’s attention always made him feel ridiculously awkward, even if it had never once avoided its call. He jumped up a wall, hoping to find a vantage point from where he couldn’t possibly be surprised from above, as was his custom. At least he had managed to learn from _that_ mistake.

_I was distracted last time. I won’t let my guard down again._

_Just go back. Even that lookalike of yours would be a better option than this. If you had some training first—_

Ventus’ hold on his keyblade tightened, knuckles turning white.

_Oh yes, because that went so well._

Vanitas’ voice disappeared for what felt like minutes, even though it could have been mere seconds from how badly Ventus found himself hanging onto his every word. Eventually, it came back, its tone more defensive than it had been before.

_You think it’s so fucking easy, don’t you._

Ventus scoffed. _What are you talking about?_

 _You’re happy just the way you are. As long as it keeps the pain at bay, you never plan on remembering anything about who you were, about who_ we _were._

_I can’t remember, and you’re not helping me! What good would it do anyway?_

_You’re a coward, Ventus. You always have been._

What could have once passed as words of mild concern had turned into attempts to goad him on, and yet Ventus couldn’t help rising to the bait. Even though he knew what Vanitas was saying rang false, it still served as the perfect way to drag him right into his game, hook, line and sinker.

_At least I’m not using Xehanort to excuse my actions, unlike you! You haven’t even apologized yet!_

_Excuse them? Are you stupid? How could I—_

_Yes, excuse them! I was trained under him too, and I have never done anything like th—_

_Because you barely remember anything! You really think remembering how I was created counts? You don’t know the extent of it, Ventus!_

The sound of pebbles hitting the ground below came from somewhere behind him, and despite how distracted he was quickly becoming, Ventus still turned on his heel, ready to put Wayward Wind between any menace and him. Try as he may, he didn’t see anything, nor anyone.

_I think I know enough to—_

_You don’t. You’ve always left me behind to deal with your problems._

_I’ve always been darkness and I never had a fucking choice, but you keep doing this and putting yourself in danger like you don’t care about what your stupid friends have to say about it._

Ventus didn’t reply, too busy blocking the incoming blow to his face.

It seemed he wouldn’t need to set off his alarm after all.

The whole point to this whole escapade had been getting more in touch with the darkness that plagued him, turning a weakness into an advantage. _Darkness isn’t necessarily bad_ , a voice that sounded suspiciously like Xion echoed in his head. _You need to be extremely careful though_ , said another that mimicked Roxas.

Everyone that knew what he was doing was against his plans, or at the very least, his methods, and if Ventus had stopped to think that instead of getting too fired up by Vanitas’ words, perhaps he wouldn’t be there, fighting the same opponent for what felt like the twentieth time.

It probably was.

Some part of him wondered if Roxas had followed him this time as well, his gaze too knowing as he watched him leave. Best case scenario, he would tell Xion and be done with it. Worst case—

Ventus groaned, delivering a hit of his own. His eyebrows hit his hairline the moment he felt his keyblade collide with hard muscle instead of unyielding metal. With such a surprising realization came the kind of prideful surge that made his chest puff up every time Aqua ruffled his hair after a stunt well done, and a wide slash upwards is just barely stopped by a monochrome Void Gear.

Excitement almost had him bouncing on the balls of his feet, heels digging in the soil to put more strength behind his next blow. His feat, though small, had him filled with renewed vigor.

_I’m fine, see?_

Vanitas didn’t answer.

Minutes passed. Blows were exchanged, the clinking sound of their keyblades meeting in a fierce embrace threatening to leave his ears ringing for days. Ventus spun on his heel, and the sudden shift in stance made his eyes catch the strangest of sights.

His arm was off. Wispy tendrils of black smoke emanated from it, all the way down to his chest. His free hand surged up to try and grasp what it could, but as ominous as it looked, it still remained intangible.

Sure, Ventus might have been a light, but that didn’t mean he was utterly clueless. The strength behind his attacks, that extra push just when he needed it, and now, the visible darkness over his frame… All were unmistakable signs that Terra had shamefully admitted to having back when it all had started, his eyes unseeing as he stared at his hands.

Heat travelled through his veins and up his spine, making him shudder as it spread, slow and heavy. And yet, there was nothing he would be willing to complain about at the moment. His balance was steady, his limbs powerful beyond their natural capability, and his head as cool as it could possibly be, eyes darting from one afterimage to another with lightning fast speed, keeping every single threat under his stare.

A choked gasp echoed in his head, and if he didn’t know any better, Ventus would have thought it came from the Unversed in front of him. Still, there was no other possibility. If floods could manage to screech, it wasn’t that much of a stretch to believe that perhaps this one was capable of emitting sounds.

Somehow, his adrenaline induced frenzy receded at that, giving way to maddening unease. How else was he supposed to feel, knowing something that so closely resembled Vanitas could feel and express pain? A watery chuckle teased him yet again, sounding so far away it almost got lost in the sound of the fiery explosion that almost managed to scorch the tips of his hair.

_What?_

_Stop contradicting yourself._

Of course Ventus wanted to ask him what he meant, but an afterimage threatening to singe the skin of his back cut him off. And so the fight continued, the only sounds foreign to their battle being weak coughs and low groans too quiet for Ventus to pick up.

 

 

He didn’t notice the silence until hours later, back flat against the surface of his bed and feet kicking at his crumpled sheets. His endorphin driven high had just withdrew, leaving way to a deep yet satisfying feeling of exhaustion that left him more than a little sleepy.

The flood he had started to consider his own was uncharacteristically still, peering up at him from the darkest corner of his room, where the light from his window couldn’t reach. Its unsettling stare never left his frame, and minutes passed without a single blink. Somehow, Ventus didn’t think it would react if he beckoned it further, and so he just stared back, waiting for those red orbs to snap closed.

His skin prickled.

Sighing, he stretched out his arm above him, looking for any of the signs he had witnessed not even an hour earlier. None were found, and something tight in his chest unraveled. As far as damage control went—

 _Vanitas_ , he called, his thought as uncertain as it was eager. The voice in his head hadn’t uttered a single thing for some time, and while that would have made sense a few days ago – while they were both set on ignoring each other – it didn’t feel right to do the same thing after their last argument. Something drove Ventus to want to share his experience with Vanitas, to ask him if it felt the same for him when he let his darkness run rampant, too.

Was it always as exhilarating as this? Did its appeal really lie in a power up without consequences, when it was all used harmlessly?

Truth be told, it sounded _too_ good to be true.

 _Vanitas_ , he insisted, trying to lure his seemingly unwilling listener out, to no avail. Ventus frowned, brow furrowing in disappointment. In all honesty, he still didn’t know how functional their connection was. Vanitas could have been ignoring him all the while, quite reasonably angry after all that, but his thoughts might have not reached him, and in that case, Ventus knew exactly what to do.

“Ready or not, I’m coming.”

Under the unwavering look of his flood, his mattress eventually faded away into never ending darkness, and the moment sleep started tugging insistently at the strings of his consciousness, Ventus dropped.

At first, he thought he had kept his eyes closed. The night was darker than it last had been, forcing his pupils to be blown wide in an attempt to capture what little light remained. For seconds Ventus remained completely still, afraid of what would happen if he made the wrong move.

A gurgled noise somewhere to his right caught his attention, making him snap his head in its direction so quickly he almost got whiplash. Instinctively and driven by a will of its own, the familiar and calming weight of Wayward Wind made itself comfortable between his fingers.

If Vanitas’ training had taught him something, it was being wary of every single noise whenever he couldn’t depend on his sight. If _Vanitas_ had taught him something, it was how to bend his teachings to his own will.

With no small amount of fear, Ventus casted a small fireball and didn’t release it, holding it still on the tip of his keyblade. The soft glow barely allowed him to see three steps ahead of him, but it was still better than nothing, and he found solace in the fact that at least he wouldn’t fall to his death anymore.

A cough so rough it made him wince put him right on track. “Vanitas?” Ventus tried again, eyes shifting from left to right in an attempt to make out anything that wasn’t the dry patches of grass beneath his feet. Not two steps later, the light coming from his keyblade revealed a couple of familiar boots, and calves, and thighs. Ventus’ eyes kept going up in their scrutiny until they found the face of the man they belonged to.

His helmet lied by his side, thrown carelessly near a puddle of a dark, unknown liquid that also stained the fabric of a robust chest. Vanitas, on the other hand—

Vanitas looked terrible.

For someone whose face seemed to be stuck in a perpetual expression of either smugness or angered challenge, Ventus had never thought he could have ever looked so frail. The fire on his keyblade cast his features in a warm glow, trying to fool him, but even then Ventus could tell his skin was closer to an ashen gray that the though pale healthy ivory it usually was. Red rimmed eyes stared up to him in muted horror, and something in Ventus hurt at sight.

His trembling chapped lips gaped up at him like Vanitas wasn’t sure what to do, and the black shimmery sludge that dripped from them told the blond more than he had wanted to know. Ventus swallowed, ever so slowly falling into a crouch as to avoid triggering any fearful reaction from the other, and Vanitas watched him all the while, a hand rising to cover his mouth.

“That’s… why…” Ventus started whispering, only to find a wall. What exactly was he asking here? “What happened?” He settled for instead, watching as Vanitas gave him a dirty look and move his hand aside, the residue on his lips gone.

Somehow, that didn’t make Ventus feel any better.

Whatever Vanitas had been about to reply was cut off by a gagging fit that made nausea settle in Ventus just from hearing it, not knowing what to do other than watch as the man in front of him quickly leaned to the side and spit out more of that viscous substance.

Once he started, he couldn’t stop.

His whole body seemed to shake with effort as a black mass made its way past his lips, his chest rising and falling at such a quick pace that Ventus feared he was choking on it, and his free hand shot up to hold onto Vanitas’ shoulder before he even had the time to think about it. His fingers dug into the suit from how hard his grip was, and the shudders that rocketed his frame only went wilder at his touch.

Whatever had just come into existence seemed to hesitate, its undefined shape changing slightly, and Ventus could have sworn Vanitas stopped breathing, a shaking fist raised over it in a threat Ventus’ bemused stare couldn’t even begin to understand. The black matter shook, and then dissolved into an inert plash.

Only Vanitas’ ragged breath broke the silence between them. At some moment, the hand grasping his shoulder for support had ventured up and down his back in an attempt at comfort Ventus hadn’t been sure how else to give. Under his palm, the near violent tremors had yet to stop. His own heart seemed to sympathize with them, racing a mile a minute as a feeling of helplessness took over.

Closer than he had ever been, Vanitas cringed, his eyes closing in exertion. When he bent forward, black locks brushed blond ones. Ventus held his breath, and his keyblade almost slipped from his fingers.

“You can’t just… take.” Vanitas eventually managed to say, his voice like nails on a chalkboard. He had yet to recover his breath, and a bead of sweat travelled down the side of his face, his bangs damp with it. Ventus followed it until it fell from his jaw and got lost in the dark. “It’s not… I’m not—” His voice cracked, and for a second he looked ready to throw up again, eyes going wide in panic, “You can’t force me. Not you too.”

_Not you too._

Ventus’ own breathing staggered, eyes lighting up as his mind caught up with a horrifying realization. There hadn’t been anything he could use before all of this started. Even if he had tried— even if his heart had proved to be as brittle at Terra’s at the time, there was no darkness to draw any power from, no stepping stone to trample on to reach a higher level of power.

But now, he had _Vanitas_.

So many words piled up at the tip on his tongue, bubbling up his chest in a desperate need to make themselves known. _I’m sorry, how can I help, does that happen every time, I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry—_

None of them managed to come out, but his keyblade fell to the ground as he wrapped his arms around Vanitas, hoping to offer the quietude a thousand apologies could never manage. The stuttering in the breathing pattern of the chest against his made Ventus certain that he was soon to be hit for his stupidity. As seconds ticked by and Vanitas remained as still as a statue, Ventus closed his eyes, readying himself for a blow that never came. To his surprise, two arms tightened in a vice grip around his waist, bringing him even closer.

“I won’t,” Ventus muttered, his voice barely audible over the weak sobs coming from the lips so close to his ear.

There was no way of telling how much time had passed by the time impenetrable darkness gave way to dim starlight, but by the time it did, Vanitas had stopped shaking, and they had yet to say anything. Perhaps he was too tired to argue, or maybe his body had been so wrecked and dying for comfort that he would have clung to anyone that offered it.

To Ventus, it felt like a step forward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we're..... moving forward.... next chapter will be way lighter in tone than this lmao. Let me know what you think! [Twitter.](https://twitter.com/vanvenroku)


	11. Tête à tête

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooooo this fic has fanart now! The wonderful eliestarr made [this beautiful piece](https://twitter.com/_eliestarr/status/1124698543577370625?s=20) for the last chapter! I'm in _love_. We also hit 350 kudos somehow? I'm so grateful I don't know how to deal with it. I hope you enjoy this chapter! There's a couple of timeskips on it.

From then on, Vanitas waited.

There were only so many things he could do in this prison. Sleeping for the rest of his days was an option he felt way too tempted to go for. After all, wouldn’t it be what he wanted at its core? To join Ventus’ heart once and for all, to say goodbye to his bothersome existence— yes, the idea was way too attractive. Eternal nights sometimes teased him with a far off sunrise, bathing the landscape in just enough light to make out the path of stone running down the mountains, yet never once gifting him a single daybreak.

His powers retained a will of their own; some days he was a keyblade wielder and others he was not. The remains of darkness occasionally licking at his feet and begging him to be given shape were like clay in the hands of a novice potter, falling apart into indescribable, lifeless forms that couldn’t rid him of any of the emotions threatening to claw a way out of his chest.

If it weren’t for Ventus’ sporadic visits, he would have long lost any sense of time.

He would come in most nights – or so Vanitas believed – chirping and rambling about how his day went, like he didn’t even _know_ , eyes almost unblinking and fixed on the small puddles that revealed what Ventus was doing at the time.

Like nothing bad had ever happened between them.

It felt _wrong_.

But oh, Ventus always had something to say to that, didn’t he? Ever the martyr, the fake princess of heart he was forcefully manipulated into becoming. He would smile, and even though the corners of his mouth wouldn’t go as high as they used to before everything, his resolution and beliefs still managed to shine through, blinding him with his incomprehensible and misdirected kindness.

“Everyone makes mistakes, Vanitas. Even me.” Vanitas snorted.

“You’re making one right now.”

Ventus shrugged. “The enemy of my enemy is my friend.”

“I’m pretty sure everyone has been Xehanort’s enemy at some point. Is that what you’re gonna do, Ventus? Befriend every single sentient creature you find?” Why, this ridiculous, naïve, _reckless_ —

“Of course,” Ventus replied, a petulant tilt to his voice. Even his chin came up in defiance, and for a second Vanitas was struck with a memory of years past, of both royals and peasants dancing in tandem to a quiet waltz. That world’s prince’s stupidity rivaled that of the man next to him. Vanitas watched as he placed a hand over his heart, grinning cheekily. “Who wouldn’t want to be my friend, anyway? I’m awesome. Savior of the worlds, future Keyblade Master—”

“Former, useless sleeping beauty.” He countered, lips curling into a lazy smirk. To his credit, Ventus didn’t even stutter.

_Huh_.

“I’m not Aurora,” The blond said instead, and Vanitas hummed in response.

“You’re right, my bad. She didn’t spend a decade sleeping waiting for someone to save her.”

“Hey!” A hand hit his arm, but the blow was so half hearted that he barely felt any pain. “Whose fault was that, anyway?”

Vanitas didn’t reply, and the following silence turned the few steps between them into an unbreachable frontier none knew how to cross. It wasn’t that Ventus wasn’t right— Xehanort’s orders or not, there had only been one person standing on foreign stained glass, and only he had been the one to force Ventus to shatter it all beyond salvation.

There was nothing he had to say in his defense.

A shame, really. He had been so close to leaving his pain behind, so close to holding a complete weapon in his grasp, and yet, nothing good ever came from his efforts. Just two deaths and a complete inability to fade away, like a stain, a residue on Ventus’ heart that would never be truly cleansed. Perhaps that had been Xehanort’s intention all along, creating a parasite that would cling all too persistently to its one chance at living. A being that wouldn’t be defeated even if its heart was torn into pieces. There would _always_ be enough negativity left in the world to bring it back to life, willingly or not.

Ah. He was so _tired_.

“—nitas? Vanitas? I’m sorry, I shouldn’t—”

“What good is there in pretending nothing ever happened?” Vanitas shrugged, and watched with newfound interest the obvious flinch Ventus tried to keep under wraps. “Forgetting about it will hardly be of any help if something like me comes to life. Better learn about past mistakes.”

Those blue eyes seemed to be clouded by worry, guilt, and something he couldn’t even begin to put his finger on, an open book he could finally begin to understand after some careful observation. Oddly, he wondered if his fellow friends would be able to identify the meaning of the set of his jaw, the bobbing of his throat, the stiffness of his shoulders… Hell, even his right hand fumbled with the trim of his vest, when it wasn’t busy fingering his wristband.

Probably, since they never were too far off when their precious Ventus was in distress.

“I’ll never forget it. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to.” Ventus paused. “But I don’t see the meaning in holding a grudge against you for the rest of our lives, either.”

And that, right there, was something Vanitas didn’t understand. There was always room for anger, bitterness and despite in his heart – if he even _had_ one – but Xehanort had never taught him forgiveness, only the fear that came with a word being spoken out of place or a reaction a second too slow to avoid getting hit. And yet Ventus offered it freely, disinterestedly, a white flag rising among the dead coals of a war long ended. Vanitas let out a low laugh.

“You really should.”

Ventus shrugged, a soft smile in place, and for a second, the night around them seemed a little bit brighter.

“That’s for me to decide.”

 

True to his word, Ventus had refused to let out any of the darkness plaguing him out… at least, consciously. As much as he wanted to, Vanitas could hardly get mad at him for the outbursts of emotion that followed his nightmares, seeing more than feeling how his heart quivered in fear. The darkest nights were asphyxiating, and even his eyes struggled to see past the thick darkness they carried with them.

Ventus’ little stunt had, at the very least, managed to reduce the suffocating feeling in his lungs, forcefully riding him of the darkness piling up inside him. It was like making sure a dam filled to the brim overflowed past its walls, keeping them from breaking down under the unrelenting pressure.

They never talked about it.

Of course, that was _his_ decision. Ventus was all too eager to discuss it, to search for the root of a problem he would like to rip off his heart like a bad weed, but Vanitas would rather not. This camaraderie, this unlikely truce they had come to agree on… it was fragile, bound to break under the lightest strain.

_Like him._

“I’m just saying, maybe there is a way for you to push it out? One that doesn’t involve pain?”

“There is. You saw it with your own two eyes, Ventus.”

Somehow, he didn’t look too lost for words at that, a hand cupping his chin and eyebrows furrowing in concentration rather than annoyance. It was a practiced gesture, a genuine look enhanced with theatrics, and Vanitas couldn’t help but wonder who he had learned it from.

Had it been Terra? On the off chance that he was capable of rational thought – and damn, his eyes snapped back to Ventus to check that he hadn’t managed to read his thoughts and wasn’t in immediate danger – it still felt wrong. Perhaps it had been Aqua. She was more likely to have such elaborate manners, and being the one with the plan in the group suited her— but there was someone else, wasn’t it? Someone who had taken Ventus under his wing and taught him everything he knew.

For once, Xehanort wasn’t the answer that came to mind.

Whatever that meant.

He hadn’t met Eraqus, not really. An abomination like him couldn’t simply step up to a Keyblade Master and hope for his life to be spared, but the old man talked about him, sometimes. Enough for him to piece together the image of a thoughtful, calm man; at least, when the worlds weren’t in danger due to his own antics.

“Make some Unversed, then. Let it all out.”

Now, if only it were so easy.

Vanitas felt cornered enough as he was, trapped in the prison that should have freed him. Admitting to yet another one of his weaknesses, whatever the reason, wasn’t something he was willing to do.

Maybe things had changed.

Maybe his control over his own kind had come back to him, even if it was as fickle as the one he had over his keyblade— but focusing on his own frustration only made it more difficult for him to breathe. He had no choice but to take a moment to answer, just so his voice wouldn’t _crack_.

His attempts were fruitless, adding yet another tally to the never ending count of his failures.

But Ventus didn’t need to know that, nor did Vanitas intend to tell him. With nothing else to do but lie since Ventus had dared to address the issue, Vanitas shrugged.

“That’s not how it works. You think I would let out so many of them if I could control it? They don’t come at will.”

See, the thing about half truths was that they never stopped having an ounce of reality behind them, making them easily sustainable. They were solid, surprisingly—

“You said you had been the one to send them off to different worlds, so… I don’t believe you.”

— _not foolproof._

There should be anger clawing its way out of his throat by now, turning his insides into an eviscerated mess. There should be the tell tale feeling of burning in his entrails, raging against the cold spreading up his fingertips, numbing whatever limbs they coveted. Instead, there was only mild exasperation pumping through his veins, filling his chest with inexplicable yet not unpleasing warmth.

“That’s… you—” His complaints piled up on the tip of his tongue, making it difficult for even a single one to spill from his lips. “Of all the things you could possibly choose to remember, you go for that?”

“You did have all my attention at that moment, you know.” Ventus’ mouth curled into a grimace, but it didn’t look anywhere near as worried or disgusted as it should have, which was a concern on its own.

Oh, he knew alright. It had been him pulling the strings of the lesser beings under his command, turning floods into vine like beings that wouldn’t buckle under just any struggle. In that barred land, there was nothing else for Ventus to see but him. His triumph. The borrowed face he wore like a mask, never accepting such human features as his own.

Vanitas still didn’t. “You didn’t seem to have this much fun back then.” He scoffed.

Warm laughter erupted from Ventus, shifting in pitch in such a sudden way that made Vanitas think it had almost been startled out of him. “Wow, yeah. I _do_ enjoy not being threatened for once!” As if amused by his own words, the blond tilted his head back and laughed even harder.

Under the stars, only made visible due to the light from a lamp post nearby and threatening to laugh up a lung, Ventus was… _something_.

Perhaps the reason why his heart remained stuck in an everlasting night was the fact that no sun could ever hold a candle to Ventus’ radiant smile. The Heartless were drawn to pure light beings like moths to a flame, ready to be destroyed by any of the wielders if only to get a glimpse of a real heart, a hint of what they once had lost.

Standing right in front of the next best thing, Vanitas thought he could understand them.

 

Winter would soon make its way through the Land of Departure, or so had Ventus said. The fields were supposed to be covered by immaculate snow, thick enough to hinder the steps of those who dared walk though it unprepared. It was meant to be fun, apparently. It was yet another one of those things that Vanitas hadn’t been told _how_ to feel about, having been confined for far too long in the unchanging wasteland of the Badlands.

Part of him wondered if Ventus’ heart would remain unaffected, or if he treasured his snowball fights with Aqua and Terra enough to have a literal change of heart.

“I can hear you thinking, you know.”

The head leaning against the back of his moved to the side, tilting backwards until looking down at his right shoulder meant staring right into curious blue eyes. They would do this sometimes, rely on physical contact to anchor Vanitas to the reality around them and not the ghosts of the past. It was hardly anything like the joined hearts he so clearly desired, but the warmth against him was a welcome weight, and Vanitas found that as long as Ventus kept his pretty mouth shut, it was a whim he didn’t mind giving up to.

Vanitas hummed noncommittally, ignoring the urge to summon his helmet and be done with this conversation. As faint as their connection was, he didn’t need to feel any intention behind the question to know that Ventus was annoyingly determined about everything he did. Prying an answer from him wouldn’t be the most difficult challenge he had ever faced.

“You should use it again.”

“I won’t.” Concise, lightning fast; Ventus’ reply left no room to be discussed, but while Ventus was determined, Vanitas was stubborn.

“What’s wrong? Scared of a little darkness now that you know what it can do?”

“I’m not paying the price for it. You even asked me yourself not to.” Ventus muttered, a distressed look on his face.

Indeed, he had. The pain had been all too great, too unexpected after a while of blissful nothingness. Getting used to a painless existence was the worst thing that could have happened to Vanitas. Hoping it would remain that way was a naïve thought he couldn’t help stomping on; daydreaming and him didn’t quite match.

Ventus didn’t know what he had done, submitting to the darkness haunting him. The only thing keeping him from turning his sporadic use into an addiction was his very nature, a heart of pure light corrupted only by himself.

Vanitas didn’t know how much it would last.

“I can’t… do anything else.” Vanitas started, almost choking on his own admission. _Weak weak weak._ “Without the Unversed, there is no way for me to get rid of... this.” He spit out, disgust lacing his voice.

“Normal people just talk these things out, Vanitas. Maybe you could—”

“I’m _not_ normal, Ventus!”

Ventus winced, readjusting his position to sit by his side rather than behind him. He let out a hiss, briefly cradling his arm, and Vanitas wasn’t too surprised to see a scratch blossoming red on his otherwise unmarred skin.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

“You should kill it.” He rasped out, trying to feel for a conscience that was too far out of reach, a mind he couldn’t quite shape to his liking from within his prison. As fond as Ventus was of the small critter, it would react to his anger from time to time, hurting the only culprit behind his emotions.

On top of stupid, Ventus was a masochist.

“It’s not hurting anyone.” The idiot replied, casting a small healing spell with a flick of his wrist. Just like that, the mark was gone, not given even a moment of his time.

“It’s hurting you.”

“I doubt this can even be considered a real wound. It scratches me sometimes, so what? It’s harmless— kind of like a cat, really!” Ventus mumbled in a wistful voice.

And that…

Vanitas didn’t know how to deal with that.

To hear about the monsters his rampant feelings used to spawn being talked about in such an innocent manner, void of the utter revulsion Vanitas felt towards them, _accepting_ them, even—

“It should still die. It’s not a pet, Ventus.”

“Who said that? I haven’t seen it sleep, but it probably does, right?” There he went, off into a rambling spree. Vanitas braced himself. “It listens to me… sometimes. There’s probably a way to train it, right? How do you command it?”

Groaning, Vanitas rubbed his temples, much to the obvious amusement of the spitfire by his side.

“It eats, too! How is it not a pet?”

“It feeds off your negativity. It’s like an overgrown _leech_ , Ventus.”

“Which keeps me from having nightmares, most of the time.” The triumphant grin that accompanied his statement wasn’t anywhere near fair. Vanitas looked away. “Even Aqua’s dreamcatcher isn’t that effective!”

_Time to change tactics._

“It’s going to grow big and then you won’t be able to hide it from your friends anymore. They’ll kill it on sight.”

Ventus only turned thoughtful, much to his dismay. “I guess I could hide it in the closet… but no, that seems kind of claustrophobic. Hmm…” His whole face lit up, apparently having reached a plausible solution. “Do you think I could drag it in here somehow? You’d have some company while I’m gone.”

_Nevermind_.

He didn’t even dignify that with an answer, rolling his eyes and brushing his hand over his face to give form to the darkness already gathering on his fingertips. In seconds, his whole expression was covered by the safe barrier of an opaque screen.

“—Hey, I’m being serious here! Don’t just ignore me like that. Vanitas!” Ventus whined, fingers prodding at his headpiece in an attempt to look for a latch that simply didn’t exist.

If his helmet offered him the coverage needed to smile unbidden at his childish antics, well. What Ventus didn’t know couldn’t hurt him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my friend: wow vanitas that's kind of gay
> 
> yeah. yeah it is. 
> 
> Find me [here](https://twitter.com/vanvenroku).


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